


My Boyfriend's in the Band

by mistresscurvy



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-20
Updated: 2011-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-15 19:19:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistresscurvy/pseuds/mistresscurvy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it comes time to deal with the rest of the school, Tommy knows the way to work the high school game. He knows how to stay out of the sightline of assholes, and how to blend in enough to avoid people's notice, but not so much that he feels like a ghost of himself. He gets pretty good grades, but nothing remarkable; he keeps his books in his music cubby, but that's just because he's in the band room three times a day for band practice and music theory and his free period. He's not <em>popular,</em> but he's got his friends, and they look out for each other. No one really pays him any mind.</p><p>That is not how Adam goes about his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Boyfriend's in the Band

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Lambliff Big Bang.](http://community.livejournal.com/lambliffbigbang/)
> 
> Art is by [mmmfelicious](http://mmmfelicious.livejournal.com/17186.html) \- thank you so much, bb.

  
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Tommy pulls open the door to the band room, walking through the entryway lined with file cabinets stacked full of sheet music, and heads into the main room. The room is dark and still, and Tommy doesn't know why it's always cooler in here than it is outside in late August — it's not like it's air-conditioned — but he finally feels like he can breathe again.

He throws his backpack into his cubby and sets his trumpet case down on one of the tables along the far wall, popping open the locks. His right hand fits around the body of the instrument and he flutters down the valves with his fingers, loosening them up. He brings up the mouthpiece to his lips and buzzes, warming up his mouth and the cold metal before putting it into the body of the trumpet. And then he plays.

Tommy runs through some scales at first, just getting back into the groove after a long summer away. He took out his baby a couple of times a week all summer, of course, but it's different here, somehow — it never felt as good to be playing in his bedroom, always aware of just how loud he was. This room is built for noise, though: it welcomes the sound rather than merely tolerating it.

He keeps going through his warm-up, settling in and gradually developing the warm tone and bright sound he's working towards. He wanders around the room while he plays, sometimes doing heel to toe, but mostly just moving, getting it into his body. He's just finishing his B flat scale (a bitch of a key if there was one) when he hears a noise at the door and turns around.

A guy he's never seen before is standing there, his hand resting in one of the band cubbies on his left. He's tall and pale and freckled, with dyed black hair that doesn't quite work with his skin tone but makes his bright blue eyes pop. He's got on a pair of jeans and a faded black t-shirt that Tommy thinks might be inside out, and he's staring at Tommy. Finally, he speaks.

"Uh. I'm here for the band?" he says, smiling hopefully.

Tommy tries to make himself smile back a little in return, his lips still buzzing from playing. "Yeah, um, practice doesn't actually start for another like half an hour? I just got here early to warm up a bit."

That seems to be all the other boy needs to get him to walk into the room. He comes up to Tommy easily. "I know, that's what the welcome letter thing said, but my brother was driving me nuts at home and I didn't really know where else to go yet! I'm new."

Tommy looks up at him and waves up his left hand. "I'm Tommy." He licks over his lips and smacks them together a bit; he wants to get his trumpet back up to them.

"Oh! I'm Adam, right, sorry," Adam says, peering at Tommy's mouth. "You look like you're wearing pink lip gloss."

Tommy stares back, at a loss. "Um."

A horrified look crosses Adam's face. "Oh my god, I sound like I'm one of the guys from _Deliverance_ or something. I'm _sorry_ —"

"Dude, that's, like, an awesome movie," Tommy says, surprising himself.

"Not that part!"

Tommy brings his left hand up to his lips. "They just get like this when I'm playing, and they're still getting used to me playing a lot again? So like, no lip gloss. Not that I wouldn't or anything, just. That would get the trumpet sticky? So," Tommy says, desperately trying to make himself stop talking already, _Jesus._

Adam laughs a little. "Okay, so no pink lip gloss, but it's not like you're against it on principle or anything."

"Right," Tommy replies. He moves back over to his case; it doesn't look like he's going to get any more practice time in before the band room starts to fill with all the band geeks. Adam walks with him, and Tommy racks his brains for a new topic. "Uh. So you said you're new in town?"

"Oh, yeah! I just moved here a couple of weeks ago with my mom and brother. We used to live in California," Adam says wistfully.

"Oh, wow. Why'd you move here then?" Tommy asks, wiping down his mouthpiece with the cloth from his case.

Adam stops next to him and leans up against the table. "My parents got a divorce, and my mom's family is from here, so back to New Jersey it was."

"Shit, I'm sorry," Tommy says.

Adam shrugs. "Yeah, it kind of blows? Especially for my senior year and all that. But hey, at least I'm near New York, you know? I'm applying to a bunch of schools there, which makes things easier."

"Oh, you're a senior, too?" Tommy asks. He fiddles a little with the trumpet in the case. Adam doesn't seem like he minds sharing all this with Tommy, but he still feels kind of bad for accidentally bringing up his family's situation.

"Yup! And I'm looking at schools for vocal performance, and a lot of them are in the city. So it works out!" Adam says. "How long have you played the trumpet?"

"Oh. Uh, since I was like eight? So I guess nine or so years," Tommy says. "What, um, what do you play? You know, for band?"

"Oh, I don't, really," Adam says cheerfully. "My old school didn't have a marching band, just a show band, which is sort of like a cross between show choir and a pep band. So I'd sing with them at the halftime shows and stuff. But then I talked to Mr. Pittman and he said that they could always use people in the drum line. So I think I'm going to play the cymbals or something."

"That's cool," Tommy says.

Adam grins. "Yeah, I figured it'd be a good way to meet people, you know? That and say inappropriate things about their mouths."

"It's a classic method, really," Tommy says, smiling a little in return.

"I thought so," Adam says. "So I guess this is your big senior year at this place, huh? You looking forward to your final glory days, or are you just trying to make it through until you can get the hell out of dodge?"

Tommy hums a little before answering. "Neither, I guess? Like, I don't love high school or whatever, but band's pretty awesome, and I'm not really sure what's next. You know, college and stuff, probably, but I like it here." He gestures to the room around them. "Have you met Mr. Pittman yet? He's pretty fucking awesome."

"No, just talked to him a bit on the phone — he sounds cool though," Adam says.

"Yeah, he's—"

"Hey, Tommy!"

Tommy and Adam both look over as a tall, skinny guy comes rushing over to them. "Hey, David," Tommy says, pulling him in for a bro hug. "Long time no see, man."

"Likewise, dude. How was your summer? You seen Isaac yet?" David asks.

"Pretty good, a little boring. And I think he just got back from that arts camp last night, should be here today. Oh, um, David, this is Adam, he just moved here from the West Coast. He's a senior too," Tommy says, stepping back a little.

"Hey man!" David says to Adam, holding a hand out for him to shake. "Welcome to Bellington High. Home of the Beavers."

Adam glances down at Tommy. "He's joking, right?"

Tommy shakes his head while David snickers. "David would never kid about beavers, trust me."

"Swear to god, there's even a mascot uniform somewhere, but no one's worn it since the seventies," David says. Tommy sees a bunch of other kids start to come in through both entrances to the band room, and he smiles. Time for things to start.

* * * 

Most high school students wouldn't look forward to going back to school a full week before classes even start. But if Tommy had to rank the weeks of the year, from best to worst, Band Week would absolutely be in the top five, along with Christmas vacation and the week when the All-State band performs and the first week of summer, when everything seems open and possible and the hot sun still feels like a godsend rather than just sweaty and uncomfortable. Band Week has all his favorite things — Mr. Pittman, his friends in band, learning new music and getting it into his body — without having all the other crap that comes with school. They're the only ones there, really — the fall athletes are getting ready for the season, but he doesn't have to deal with them at all since they're over on the practice fields. Things will be different once classes start next Wednesday, but for now he can enjoy the best parts of high school without having to think about the worst.

And it's not that Mr. Pittman doesn't make them take it seriously. Everyone knows that if they don't work hard this week, the show will never come together the way it needs to, and halftime will be something to survive rather than being the best part of each game. But Mr. Pittman knows how to give them all enough time to socialize after a long summer away so that when it is time to buckle down and practice, everyone's willing to focus.

And right now, it's definitely time for gossip. It doesn't surprise Tommy at all when Adam reveals himself to be an instant social butterfly, flitting from group to group in the band room, sometimes with David at his side but often just by himself. Tommy sticks to his closest friends, greeting Allison and Isaac and Sophie when they come in at last, and they catch up about their summers until Mr. Pittman moves to the front of the room and Band Week really starts.

He doesn't mean to, but Tommy keeps glancing back at the drumline whenever Mr. Pittman tells the brass section to drop out when they're playing through the songs. He watches Adam counting along and focusing completely on the music while they're playing. Isaac leans over to talk to Adam after each run through of the songs, pointing out the rhythms and tapping his drumsticks on Adam's arm to demonstrate. Tommy smiles a little and goes back to learning his own music by heart, measure by measure.

When they break for lunch, it catches Tommy off-guard when Adam plops down next to him under the tree by the bike racks where Tommy has set up by himself. Adam pulls his own brown bag out of his backpack and starts unpacking it, laying out his sandwich next to a bag of chips and an apple. "So! I think that was pretty good, for a first rehearsal," Adam says, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

Tommy nods back, trying to chew and swallow faster. "Yeah, um, we'll be okay. This afternoon will be kind of a disaster when we get on our feet and start learning the steps, but that always happens," Tommy says.

"It's like that in a musical too. The first time we do the choreography _and_ try singing off-book everyone gets fucked up," Adam says. He nudges Tommy's leg with his knee. "Do you sing, or play anything other than the trumpet?"

Tommy shrugs. "Not really. I mean, I definitely don't sing, but I sort of play the guitar a little. I always do trumpet in the pit for the spring musicals, though."

"The guitar? Hey, that's really cool," Adam says.

Tommy nods, trying to figure out how to change the subject. "So, uh, what did you do for the rest of the summer? When you weren't moving, I mean," he says.

"Oh. Well, my brother and I were up in San Francisco for the first half, spending time with my dad and his new girlfriend at their new place," Adam says.

"That must have been weird," Tommy says, mentally berating himself for bringing up Adam's family stuff _again,_ like, way to go, asshole.

Adam shrugs and smiles a little. "It wasn't too bad, really. I like her, and San Francisco's a cool city. At least he didn't move to Indianapolis or something."

"Yeah, totally," Tommy says. They sit in silence for a bit, both eating their lunches, when Adam clears his throat a little and Tommy looks over at him.

"Yeah, um, the worst part really was breaking up with my ex-boyfriend when I left San Diego," Adam says, watching Tommy.

"Oh shit, man, that must have sucked," Tommy says. Adam is still looking at him, and Tommy tries to think of what else to say. "Uh. I'm sorry?"

Adam breaks out into a huge grin. "Seriously? That's all you've got to say about the fact that I've got an ex- _boyfriend_?"

Oh. Tommy thinks he might be a little offended. "Well, I could go all after-school special and tell you that I accept you for who you are and all that—"

"Oh my god, shut up," Adam says, laughing and pushing Tommy over.

"—but I thought you might have figured that out, given that I'm in the marching band, dude. I don't fucking care," Tommy says. "Besides, half my female friends are bi or gay. I'm cool with it."

"Man, I'm not even the first person to come out to you? This fucking sucks," Adam says, still laughing. "Here I was, being all brave and open on my first day hanging out with people from my new school, and you're over it. I've totally been cheated."

"Well, if it'll make you feel better, I can get all weird and awkward around you for a couple of weeks before I finally decide I can handle being your friend," Tommy says, keeping his face serious for a minute before grinning. "Or we can just skip that part."

Adam smiles back. "I'm good with the fast-forward button."

"Wise choice," Tommy says.

* * *

The rest of the week settles into the same familiar pattern — learning the music in the morning, breaking for lunch and then getting up on their feet in the afternoon. Tommy works on the music at night too, getting it into his ear and then his hands and finally his body as the choreography comes together with the music. He murmurs "Don't move your feet," during the count-off before the cadence begins for them to march onto the field. He can't help laughing a little at David, who's clutching his trombone next to him and clearly trying to keep his legs still even in his fourth year of band.

Adam joins him every day under the tree for lunch, and when more and more of Tommy's friends sit with them as the week passes, he watches as Adam tries to casually drop the fact that he's gay into the conversation. This method has the rather predictable result of Allison launching herself at Adam after he mentions "my ex-boyfriend Brad" and telling him, in remarkable detail, about the girl she met at the pool over the summer.

"And like, she's really amazing? But I don't know what's going to happen now! She was only down here for the summer staying with her grandparents for like four weeks, and it was really amazing, seriously, we had so much fun, and we're emailing and texting all the time, but what if she forgets me?" Allison says, looking up at Adam with huge eyes. "What do I do?"

Adam meets Tommy's eyes over Allison's head and widens them; Tommy tries not to laugh too hard and shrugs back. It's not like he had any useful advice for her the first six times he heard the story.

* * *

Tommy finally gets a chance to talk to Mr. Pittman on the fourth day of Band Week. "Hey, uh, Mr. Pittman?"

"Hey, Tommy. How was your summer?" Mr. Pittman shuffles some papers around his desk in the little office that's carved out of one corner of the band room for him. "You haven't seen a folder full of extra copies of the 'Hey Song', have you? We're working on that this afternoon."

"Nope, sorry," Tommy says. "And my summer was okay, worked a little, practiced a bunch."

"Yeah, I can hear that. Your sound quality hasn't dropped off at all," Mr. Pittman says.

"Thanks," Tommy says, and he takes a deep breath. "Uh, Mr. Pittman, I know school hasn't even started yet, but I was just wondering if you'd be willing to write one of my recommendations. You know, for college."

Mr. Pittman looks up and smiles at him. "Of course, Tommy. I'd be happy to. You just let me know what you need, okay?"

Tommy lets the air whoosh out of his lungs and smiles. "Thanks, Mr. P." He's getting up the courage to mention that he also started playing the guitar this summer when Mr. Pittman snaps his fingers and grabs a folder.

"Here it is! Excuse me, Tommy, I've got to get this music out to the freshmen — they need to be up to speed on the pep music, right?" he says as he moves past Tommy out of the office.

"Absolutely," Tommy says, leaning against the doorframe. Okay. That went well. He can totally wait until later to talk to Mr. Pittman about the guitar. No problem.

  
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When it comes time to deal with the rest of the school, Tommy knows the way to work the high school game. He knows how to stay out of the sightline of assholes, and how to blend in enough to avoid people's notice, but not so much that he feels like a ghost of himself. He gets pretty good grades, but nothing remarkable; he keeps his books in his music cubby, but that's just because he's in the band room three times a day for band practice and music theory and his free period. He's not _popular,_ but he's got his friends, and they look out for each other. No one really pays him any mind.

That is not how Adam goes about his life.

"Hey, Tommy!"

Tommy turns around and sees Adam coming up the hall towards him, weaving through the other kids like a salmon spawning upstream. Even if Adam weren't taller than most of the other kids Tommy would be able to pick him out easily; not many guys at their high school have hair that styled. Tommy runs a hand through the hair on the back of his head and thinks again about asking Isaac to do his hair like they've been talking about for months.

"Hey, Adam," Tommy says, looking up at him.

"Hi!" Adam says, joining Tommy as they walk through the halls towards the south end of the school. "So I was just wondering if there's like a band breakfast or something before the game tomorrow. We always had something like that for the opener at my old school," he says, looking intently at Tommy.

Tommy frowns a little. "Yeah, Isaac should have told you about it. We're meeting in the band room at 10 a.m. Mr. P will bring bagels and donuts and juice."

"Oh! Well, maybe he did and I just forgot, there's a ton of new stuff I'm trying to remember, you know," Adam says, waving his hand around a bit. "Um. So I don't know if you have a car or what, but if you want I could pick you up, my mom let me get a car when we moved out here."

Tommy looks at him out of the corner of his eye, and suddenly he's pretty sure that Adam is asking him if he still wants to be friends now that school's actually started. “Yeah, man, that’d be great. I’m over on Brown Lane, you know where that is?” he says.

“I think so, near Greenwood Park, right?” Adam says, his face relaxing into a smile.

“Yup, that’s it. Number 73,” Tommy says, smiling back. “Wanna pick me up at like 9:45?”

“Sounds good!” Adam says. They get to the T at the end of the hall, and Adam gestures to the right. “Well, I’ve got chem now, so I’m headed this way. See you tomorrow!” he says, waving a little at Tommy as he heads down the hall.

“Later!” Tommy calls out, chewing on his lip a little as he heads back to the band room for rehearsal.

* * *

When they walk into the band room the following morning, it’s utter chaos. People are running back and forth between the various food tables, everyone is talking over one another, and David is standing on two chairs, telling a story while waving two bagels around wildly. Tommy thinks he’s using them as puppets, but he can’t really tell, and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t even want to know what they’re supposed to be puppets _of._

They stand at the entrance, staring at everyone. “At my old school, we all just went into the auditorium and sat on the choir stands and, like, ate quietly,” Adam says, clearly delighted by the scene in front of him.

Tommy snorts. “I’m guessing your old school didn’t have LP,” he says as LP starts drumming on some tom toms in the back and Isaac begins rapping along.

“I have to say that band kids here are different from what I’m used to. Like, not that they didn’t have fun or whatever, but it was more the quiet music kids that did band, you know?”

“Sure, more like me, makes sense,” Tommy says, grabbing a bagel off the table and walking over to the wall lined with cubbies.

“No, that’s not what—” Adam starts before he’s cut off by Allison hugging him from behind.

“Hey guys!” she says, beaming at them both.

“Hey Alli, you ready for today?” Tommy says, glad for the distraction. It’s not that he doesn’t know he’s pretty reserved, but he didn’t think Adam minded.

“Yeah, I think so!” Allison says. She’s a sophomore, but last year she didn’t do band – something about her parents wanting to make sure she adjusted to high school first before taking on a billion extracurriculars – so this will be her first time out on the field in front of people. Tommy can only sort of remember what it was like to not feel totally comfortable up there, trusting that his feet will know where to go and his fingers will remember the music, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if she was nervous.

“You’ll be fine,” Adam says. “I was watching you practice the steps last time, you’ve totally got them.”

“The big thing is just to keep your eyes on Brooke the whole time. Even if you want to like check out where you are relative to the rest of the group, the best way to do that is to focus on the drum major,” Tommy says.

Allison nods. "It's gonna be ace," she says, and Tommy smiles at her and Adam, the weirdness of a minute ago gone.

Tommy can tell from the increasing mayhem that people are just about done actually eating anything, and then Mr. Pittman walks over to the podium and stands on it right on cue. It always amazes Tommy just how fast that works to quiet everyone down.

"Well, I hope everyone enjoyed breakfast," Mr. Pittman says.

"It was delicious!" David calls out around half a bagel shoved in his mouth.

"Glad to hear it, David, although try not to choke to death, okay?" Mr. Pittman says. "So we're going to head out onto the practice field in about ten minutes for our last run-through, and then we'll come back, change into uniforms and head on down to the game. Any questions about how that's going to go?" He scans over the room, which is silent, and then nods at them. "All right. I want to see you all on the field ready to march at 11:00 a.m. sharp, got it?"

A chorus of agreements are shouted up at him, and the room explodes with activity, people grabbing their instruments and chucking cups of juice and uneaten bagels into the trash cans. Allison runs off to join the pack of woodwind players across the room, and Tommy starts to get his trumpet set up, futzing around a bit before noticing that Adam is still standing next to him. Tommy's about to ask if everything's okay when he hears Isaac's voice cutting through the din of the crowd.

"Hey, Adam!" he calls out. "Drum line's heading down there together!"

"Be right there!" Adam shouts back, still looking at Tommy. "Guess I'll just see you after we head down to the game, huh?" he asks, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans.

"Yeah, sounds good," Tommy says, smiling up at him briefly before buzzing his lips on the mouthpiece. He can see the corner of Adam's mouth twitching in response, and he rolls his eyes a little and brings down the mouthpiece. "I have to do that, it gets my mouth ready and the mouthpiece warm," he says.

"I'll bet it does," Adam says, grinning. Tommy knocks into him with his shoulder just before Isaac hollers for Adam again and he runs off to the drum corps.

* * *

The only thing Tommy really doesn't like about marching band is the uniform. It isn't the fit, or even the old-school style, or any of that. Maroon is just not his color, and as far as he can tell it's not anyone else's either.

"Don't feel too bad, Ratliff, just because you look terrible in these things," David says, getting his jacket on. "Not everyone can work it like me."

Isaac laughs and shakes his head. "It's that sort of sad self-delusion that's gonna keep you from ever getting a girlfriend, David. At least Tommy knows and accepts that he looks like a colorblind Lego policeman. The ladies like that sort of awareness."

"Wouldn't everyone else be colorblind, though, and not the policeman? Like. The policeman would still be in blue, but everyone would think he was in maroon," Tommy says.

Isaac and David stare at him. "Man, this is why I wish you'd let me get you stoned, if that's the sort of shit you come up with sober," Isaac says, David nodding next to him.

Tommy snorts. "Fuck off, like you could even score weed," he says to Isaac. "And as if your mom wouldn't fucking kick your ass," he adds to David.

"Whatever whatever, I do what I want," David says loftily as they make their way outside to set up for the march down to the field.

"Like hell you do," Tommy says, rolling his eyes. David grumbles under his breath next to him, but then the drum line counts off and the cadence starts, and eight measures later they're walking heel-to-toe to the field, instruments held at ready.

* * *

Every game Tommy tries to stake out a spot on the bleachers near the drum corps, both because that way he gets to hang out with Isaac all game but also because they're down front near Mr. Pittman, and Tommy likes knowing what's going on. Tommy ends up right next to Adam, who's involved in a very serious-sounding conversation with Cam.

"How long have you been playing, though?" Adam asks, glancing over at Tommy and smiling before focusing back on Cam. "Seriously, I didn't even know someone could do that on a xylophone. You're fucking awesome! Oh, uh, sorry for swearing, Mr. P," he says to Mr. Pittman, who's standing just off to the side.

"Well, I can understand why you would when you're talking about what she can do with a set of keys," Mr. Pittman says, smirking a little before turning back to the game, side-stepping a little further away from their conversation.

Cam pushes her hair off her face, looking happy if a little baffled by the attention. "I started playing the piano when I was little, and then I got really into the drums when I was in junior high, and xylophone was like the perfect fit," she says, shrugging. "I'm still way better at the piano."

"I'd love to hear you play sometime," Adam says sincerely, and then Bellington scores a touchdown or something and it's time to play "The Hey Song".

The rest of the half passes in much the same fashion, conversations half-finished in between playing songs that encourage the team to score, or to prevent the other team from scoring, or celebrate when the team actually does score, or sometimes just to answer back at whatever the other band plays. David is one of the only guys in band who really cares about the game itself — Tommy pays some attention, but a win or a loss doesn't really faze him one way or another. Apparently the team is actually supposed to be good this year though.

"Hey, isn't that Taylor?" Adam says suddenly, squinting at the sidelines.

Tommy nods as David launches into the explanation. "Yeah, he struck some sort of deal with the coach that he could play in our halftime show so long as his production on the field doesn't suffer, and he's still the QB's number 1 receiver, so."

Adam blinks at him. "I'm going to pretend I understood the second half of that sentence and stick to the part about us having like a timeshare arrangement with the football team for Taylor."

"That's pretty much it," David says, laughing.

"How does that even work? Doesn't the team crucify him for being a band geek?"

Tommy tut-tuts. "Adam, I know that you spent a lot of time in California where they're really judgmental and all, but here we value people for who they are inside, and so does the football team," he says earnestly, cracking up about halfway through.

"Oh my god, shut up," Adam says, pouting a little. "You have to admit it's _weird."_

Tommy stops laughing long enough to finally answer, David's attention caught by something that's happening on the 30 yard line. "Yeah, it probably wouldn't work for anyone other than him, honestly, but he's a good enough player that if he wants to spend halftime back out on the field, they'll let him get away with it. Like, the guys probably give him a hard time, but they still need him on the team," Tommy says, looking at Mr. Pittman and not surprised when he calls out "Smoke on the Water, guys!"

Their first halftime show goes pretty well, all things considered. Some of their spacing isn't quite where it should be, and Sasha drops her flag at one point (which frankly shocks Tommy, since she's one of the best dancers they have on the color guard), but all in all things are in good shape, and it's a solid opening performance. They'll be ready for the homecoming game in two weeks — Mr. Pittman might not admit it, but everyone wants to look their best that weekend.

Tommy has to laugh at the look on Adam's face when Taylor comes running up to the band just in time to march into their opening positions, still wearing his football uniform and cleats. This is Taylor's third year of splitting his time between the band and the team, so it just seems normal to Tommy, but he has to admit it's a little unusual. David makes sure to reassure Adam about one aspect of it, though.

"You won't have to worry about going up against Taylor in Beaver Football, though, he's not allowed to play," David says, clapping Adam on the shoulder as they head back up into the bleachers. Adam glances at Tommy before turning back to David.

"Um. Do I even want to know what Beaver Football is?" Adam asks suspiciously.

Tommy laughs while David throws his arm over Adam's shoulders, elbow crooking around his neck. "It is part of the great tradition of being in band. After this game is over, the band gets together on the practice field to play the real kind of football — Beaver Football."

Not surprisingly, Adam doesn't seem particularly reassured by this explanation, so Tommy takes pity on him. "We play a game of touch football after this one. Even Mr. P plays for the first half an hour or so. It's just fun," he says, and Adam cocks an eyebrow at him.

"You play football? You weigh like ten pounds," he says, grinning.

Tommy puffs out his chest a little. "Whatever, man, I'm one of the best Beaver Football receivers out there," he says, smirking when Adam laughs at that.

"I'll bet you are. Seriously, what is with every football position being so sexual? I mean, receivers? Tight ends? It's ridiculous," Adam says. "You don't even need to _try_ to come up with the football porno titles."

"Sophie says that it's just because sports are a way for men to act out their homoerotic desires in a socially-acceptable way," Isaac says, joining the conversation. "So it's all intentional or whatever."

"Your girlfriend is weird," David says.

"I know, it's awesome," Isaac says dreamily.

The football team finally makes it out onto the field, and they get ready to play the Michigan fight song to welcome them back for the second half.

* * *

Bellington wins their opening game, which Tommy thinks is great since it makes David happy and he won't have to listen to him bitch about it for all of Beaver Football. They head back into the band room, everyone getting out of their uniforms and putting away the instruments and talking continuously as they go. Tommy is still cleaning his mouthpiece when Adam comes up to him.

"So do you really play?" Adam asks, and Tommy nods, packing up his trumpet and snapping shut the case before answering.

"Yeah, I mean. I don't love football or whatever, but it's fun. You get to hang out with everyone, and believe it or not, Mr. P is actually a pretty good quarterback."

Adam looks curious. "Does everyone play?"

Tommy thinks for a moment. "Not _everyone_ everyone, but yeah, I mean. It's kind of what we all do after the home games," he says, shoving his trumpet into the cubby.

Adam nods, crossing his arms over his chest. "Okay then, I'll play too. And then if you want, I can give you a ride home afterwards, if you're not, like, going someplace else."

Tommy shakes his head. "Nope, Isaac's going out with Soph after the game and I think David actually managed to ask out Liz? He's being kind of cagey about it. But yeah, a ride home would be good," he says, smiling a little at Adam.

* * *

Not surprisingly, the issue with Adam playing Beaver Football is less his physical aptitude and more his complete disinterest in the game. Mr. Pittman targets him for a couple of throws and Adam catches them, but doesn't really seem to know what to do after that, getting tagged almost immediately. Tommy's not all that surprised when he bows out of the game after about fifteen minutes and sits on the top of the ridge of grass on the sideline to watch, chatting with Sasha and Terrance. He's clearly paying some attention to the game though, cheering "Atta girl!" at Allison when she tags Isaac and whistling when Tommy makes a catch.

Tommy's not exactly fast, but he has good hands and likes being a part of it, goofing off with David and getting to hang out with Mr. Pittman outside of band practice. They play for about an hour before it starts to get too dark for them to really see the ball or each other, and so they call it, with the score conveniently tied. Tommy scans over the departing crowd, smiling to himself when he sees David talking to Liz, his arms flailing all over the place, before heading over to where Adam's sitting.

"Looking good out there, Ratliff," Sasha says.

"Thank, Mallory, you know I've been working on my catching in the off-season," he says, blinking when Adam starts to laugh.

"See, I mean, working on your _catching_? That's just. Am I the only one who thinks sports are, like, gayer than gay sex?" Adam asks, smirking a little. "Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course."

Sasha and Terrance crack up laughing. Tommy smiles as he holds out a hand out for Adam to pull himself up off the ground. "Like Isaac said, you should talk to Sophie about this shit, man, she's got like theories."

"Well maybe I will." Adam waves goodbye to the rest of the group and turns towards the parking lot with Tommy. They walk over to Adam's car, not talking, and Tommy feels like maybe he should say something, come up with the perfect topic of conversation, but the silence is pretty comfortable, honestly. He doesn't have that itchy feeling like he's supposed to be more interesting. And so he just lets himself walk next to Adam, looking up at the stars that are starting to come out with his hands shoved into the pocket of his hoodie for warmth.

They get into Adam's car, and Adam throws on the radio as soon as the engine's going, scanning through until he finds something he likes and singing along under his breath. From what Tommy can hear, he sounds pretty good. Adam notices Tommy looking at him and stops singing, looking a little rueful as he turns down the radio to practically nothing.

"Sorry, I don't have to sing along if you don't like it," he says, and Tommy is shaking his head at him before he even finishes the sentence.

"No, man, that's totally cool. You can sing if you want, seriously. How's, uh, choir going, anyway?" Tommy asks, feeling like an idiot for making Adam feel bad about singing in his own car, for fuck's sake.

"Great! I was a little worried before we moved here that it wasn't going to be a good group, but everyone's really talented, actually, and Mrs. Rodgers knows what she's doing," Adam says, waving his hand around as he talks. "I'm really happy that she's the musical director, too, should be a good show in the spring, I think."

"Do you know what we're doing yet?" Tommy asks.

"She won't tell us yet, but she's given a couple of hints, and I think it's actually going to be _Jesus Christ Superstar,_ believe it or not," Adam says, rushing through the sentence in his excitement.

Tommy wishes that he could match his enthusiasm, but he doesn't even know that show. "Is that good?" he asks, suddenly very thankful that they just came up at a stop light, because Adam slams on the brakes and stares at him, eyes wide.

"Oh my _God,_ it's fucking fantastic. And I would _kill_ to play Judas, seriously," Adam says, hitting the steering wheel for emphasis, and then he opens his mouth and belts out, "Jesus! You've started to believe, the things they say of you, you really do believe," and Tommy's mouth drops open in shock. _What._

"Holy fuck, dude," Tommy says finally, when he feels like his mouth can work again. Adam glances over at him, smiling a little as he hits the gas when the light turns green. "Where did you learn how to sing like that?" he asks.

Adam shrugs, and Tommy thinks he can see a little flush up on Adam's cheeks. "I've been singing since I was a kid, you know, and I can do the choirboy tone—" he breaks off and sings something in Latin, voice clear and high "—but most of the stuff I like listening to needs a bigger, sort of harsher sound, so I've been singing in my bedroom by myself like that for years. My brother fucking hates me," he says, laughing a little.

"Yeah, my mom is always asking me to keep it down when I'm practicing in my room, but you need to be able to play full out."

"Exactly! How else are you supposed to actually learn the music or get better? My mom's pretty good about it, actually, but Neil acts like I'm killing his soul," Adam says as he turns down the main road that leads to Tommy's house.

"Yeah, that's why I've been playing a lot in the practice rooms near the band room, no one gives you any trouble," Tommy says, biting his lip. "Listen, I don't really feel like going home yet."

Adam glances at him. "Okay, then let's just go for a drive."

Tommy relaxes a little in his seat. "Sounds like a plan," he says, fidgeting with the fabric of his pants over his knees.

They drive around town, Adam turning the radio back up and Tommy tapping his hands on his legs to the rhythm of the drums. He's not even sure exactly why he didn't want to go home, other than not wanting the day to end yet.

"Thanks for hanging out with me," Adam says suddenly, and Tommy looks over at him and blinks, surprised. "I was pretty nervous, coming into a new school for my last year, but you guys are all really awesome."

"Yeah, it's a pretty good group," Tommy says. "But seriously, man, no problem. It's not that much of a chore hanging out with you. I mean, you're _kind_ of funny, and occasionally you say something sort of interesting—"

"Oh, fuck you," Adam says, laughing.

"—so we're happy to, like, take pity on you or whatever." Tommy grins helplessly.

Adam sighs, long and dramatic, and Tommy laughs, relaxed and happy. "I try to be _nice_ and this is how you treat me, I get it," Adam says, grinning back at Tommy as he drives, heading out of Bellington towards a more rural township just outside of it.

"Seriously, it's been great having you around," Tommy says. "I'm sorry you're missing your senior year at your old school and all, though, I mean, that's gotta be hard."

Adam shrugs a little. "Yeah, I mean, I knew I was probably leaving in a year anyway, but it really sucked for me and my ex-boyfriend. He's only a sophomore, so it wasn't like we could do the long-distance thing and then try to go to school near each other or anything. We knew we were pretty much done as soon as my mom told me we were moving."

Tommy tries and fails to imagine what that would be like. "Are you guys still friends or whatever?" he asks.

"We email some, and I think it'll get better with time, once it's not so recent, you know? He's still a great guy," Adam says, voice a little wistful.

"Was he your first boyfriend? I mean, you don't have to tell me about this stuff if you don't want to," Tommy says, not entirely sure if there's a line he's crossing here.

Adam shakes his head a little. "I don't mind. He was definitely my first, like, _serious_ boyfriend or whatever. When I was a freshman, there was this senior that, I don't know if you'd call it dating exactly, but we like hooked up and, you know. As first times go, you probably don't get much better than Gary," he says, glancing at Tommy quickly. "Uh. If that's like TMI or whatever—"

Tommy laughs. "Man, you'd think we're both 10-year-old girls, the way we're checking in with each other," he says. "I asked because I wanted to know, okay? I mean, David's one of my best friends, I have heard way worse about Liz's hypothetical cock-sucking abilities based on how she kisses, okay? So as long as you don't add to that mental image, I'm all good."

"That I can promise you," Adam says, grinning. "I mean, she's cute and all, and seems like a nice girl, but she's not really my type, you know?"

"I'm shocked," Tommy deadpans. "So this Gary guy, he treated you well? Took care of you? I'll bet he even talked you through it all sweet."

"You are seriously not a good person," Adam says, and they continue to drive through the night.

* * *

They don't really talk about it, but from then on Adam gives Tommy a ride home from school most days, and they start hanging out some afternoons, watching TV or going through each other's music. And for game days, Tommy gets used to Adam picking him up in the morning and then bringing him home at the end.

Homecoming weekend is a great success, with the Beavers coming through big in a fourth-quarter comeback, and the dance that night is actually more fun than normal. Tommy hangs out with Isaac and Sophie and Adam, occasionally getting pulled aside by David for last-minute pointers on how, exactly, he should go about asking Liz to be his girlfriend or whatever. Tommy doesn’t have a ton of experience with dating, but he feels like anything involving a boom box really only works if you're John Cusack, and even then only if it's still the eighties.

Adam dances with Allison a couple times, prompting a fair amount of chatter among the girls who either haven’t heard that Adam’s gay, or just don’t want to believe it. She drags Tommy out there once too, and he manages to bounce to the music enough to make her happy. It's one thing when he's actually playing an instrument — god only knows what he looks like in his bedroom when he's playing a song that he's finally learned cold on his guitar — but he never feels like he knows what to do with his hands when he's on the dance floor. He's willing to join Allison out there for a song or two, but he's relieved when he gets to return to the table where Isaac and Sophie are discussing something with identical determined expressions on their faces.

"You tell us, Tommy—" Isaac starts.

Tommy interrupts. "I don't settle anything between the two of you, you know that," he says as Adam joins them, sweat beading on his brow.

"Fuck, even I know better than that," Adam says, grabbing some punch, and Tommy smiles into his cup.

* * *

While Adam and Tommy are talking about their favorite movies in Tommy's kitchen a couple of days after Homecoming, Adam says something that completely shocks Tommy.

"I can't believe you've never seen _Highlander_ ," Tommy says.

"Uh, why would I have seen it? It looks like something my brother would watch," Adam says, leaning against Tommy's kitchen counter and eating some corn chips.

"Because it has broadswords and Sean Connery and immortal dudes who can only be killed if someone cuts their heads off and there can _be_ only one, man," Tommy says. "It's just fucking awesome. And the lead actor has your last name."

"Whatever, I bet it's pronounced _Lambert_ anyway," Adam says, vamping a French accent. "And unless we're really talking 'broadswords' I'm not sure it's gonna be my thing."

Tommy rolls his eyes at the joke and decides it's time to pull out the big guns. "The entire soundtrack is Queen."

Adam immediately pushes off the counter and heads for Tommy's room. "Why didn't you fucking say so?"

* * *

They settle on Tommy's bed together after Tommy pops the DVD into the computer on his desk, sitting on it like a couch with the pillows up against the wall behind their backs. Tommy tucks one foot under his thigh and leans into Adam a little, letting his head fall back against the wall.

They watch in silence for the first thirty minutes or so, Tommy sneaking glances at Adam every once in a while to see if he's enjoying it. Adam seems absorbed, his eyes focused on the screen, but he's fidgeting more than Tommy is used to from Adam. And then the scene that Tommy is dreading arrives, and he forgets all about Adam's twitching.

It doesn't seem to matter how many times Tommy sees it, the scene when MacLeod's wife dies always makes him cry, he can't help it. And the music just kills him, Jesus Christ — as if watching MacLeod tell his wife about the blooming heather that she'll never see again wasn't bad enough, the fucking orchestral version of "Who Wants to Live Forever" swells as he carries her body up the hill to bury her, their home burning in the background, and of course that's when he hiccups and Adam notices.

"Aw, Tommy," he says, nudging him.

"Shut up man, I don't want to hear it, this shit is really sad," Tommy says, trying to wipe away the tears with the cuffs of his hoodie.

"Hey, no," Adam says, wrapping his arm around Tommy's shoulders and pulling him in. "I get it. It's totally sad. Because he's always going to end up alone, right?"

"And then Queen just comes in, all big strings and brass, and it hurts my chest," Tommy says, hitting his sternum with the arm that isn't pinned against Adam's chest now.

"It's a double-whammy," Adam agrees, rubbing his hand up and down Tommy's arm, holding him close.

Tommy watches the rest of the scene with slightly blurry vision, but he gets through it, and eventually his eyes dry as he watches the swordfights and Kurgan being a badass who he cannot fucking wait for MacLeod to kill in the cheesiest fight scene known to man, and that's when they get to the sex scene and everything gets weird.

It's all dimly-lit and soft-lensed, trying for artistic, but you can still see their bodies moving together, their legs tangled up and his ass, high and full and gorgeous. And Tommy is suddenly aware of how Adam's fingers have been stroking up and down his shoulder for the last couple of minutes, getting closer and closer to his neck each time. He can really feel how they're sitting right next to each other, the way his leg is pressed up against Adam's and how he's tucked in against Adam's chest, and if he moved his right arm a little he could—do _something,_ he's not even sure what.

He tries to pay attention to the fucking jump-cut to lions at the zoo after the sex scene, which almost always makes him laugh because it's so fucking ridiculous, but all he's noticing is how fast he's starting to breathe, and that he can hear his pulse in his ears. He lets his right arm shift against Adam's chest, and Adam's hand stills on his shoulder for a moment before it picks up again, this time brushing over his bare neck just a little.

They sit there, still looking at the computer screen, slowly touching each other. Tommy tries not to squirm, tries to just breathe with it and act like he's still paying attention to MacLeod on the bridge, but the next time Adam brushes his fingers up over his neck he turns his head towards Adam, moving before his brain has even consciously made the decision, and he sees that Adam's already looking at him, eyes focused. He's close enough that he can really see Adam's freckles; Tommy's eyes track them all across his face, including the ones on his lips. And even though he's staring at Adam's mouth, he's still not quite expecting it, not ready to believe it when Adam leans towards him and pulls him in for a kiss.

His lips are soft, gently pressing against Tommy's, his hand still resting on his neck but just holding him there, not pushing. Tommy tries to angle his head to the right just a little, and _there_ —his upper lip slides just between Adam's lips, and suddenly they're kissing for real. Tommy can feel Adam's other hand on his side, holding him closer, and he fists his hand in Adam's shirt and tips his head back. Adam surges against him, sliding his tongue along Tommy's upper lip, and Tommy drops his jaw open a little, letting his tongue in.

Tommy's kissed people before, of course. He dated Karen Bradford when he was a freshman for three weeks; she dumped him two days after the fall formal, but he got to make out with her in her parents' basement on two separate occasions before that happened. And there were a couple of random hookups with band girls outside his social circle who were sweet, or cute, or sometimes both, but it's not like they ever had anything to say to each other after he'd gotten their bras off, which was nice and all, but not everything he’d thought it would be.

This is not _nice._ This is an entirely different category of thing. This is _why_ people fucking kiss.

Tommy starts to laugh into Adam's mouth, feeling a little hysterical and sort of marveling at what the hell else his brain will think about while he's in the middle of making out with his friend who happens to be a really hot dude. Who's gay, and has actually done this shit before. He pulls away from Adam for a moment, just to breathe and see if he can get his brain back on board, and it takes him a minute to realize that Adam's saying something.

"Seriously, don't freak out, it doesn't mean anything," Adam is saying, gripping Tommy's shoulders a little too tightly. Tommy blinks back at him, trying to process this.

"I'm not freaking out," he says. Adam's hands loosen up on his arms.

"You're not?" Adam asks, eyes dropping down.

Tommy thinks back over what Adam just said. "No. I mean. It's just kissing, right?" Tommy says, trying to figure out how to get back to it.

"Um, sure," Adam says. "Just kissing. Nothing more, if you don't want."

"No, I just. Like, I'm not freaking out, okay? It doesn't change anything, okay?" Tommy says, and he's relieved when Adam finally looks back up at him.

"Okay. Okay, good," Adam says, a little smile breaking out over his face, and then Tommy decides he's done waiting and he kisses Adam, gratified when Adam opens up for him immediately, pulling him close. He's twisted up next to Adam, still tucked in under his arm, and it's an easy move for him to throw his leg over Adam, who hums into Tommy's mouth, running his hands up and down his back.

Tommy gets both of his arms up and around Adam's shoulders, just holding on as he licks into Adam's mouth. It's different kissing Adam, better and hotter and way more fun, that's clear, but he can't tell if it's because he's a guy or if it's that he's fucking Adam Lambert and good at everything, apparently. Adam strokes over his tongue with his own, which makes Tommy shudder, and then he sucks it a little, which makes his dick jump in his jeans which holy shit Adam could probably fucking _feel_ and—

"Tommy!"

Tommy jumps away from Adam when he hears his mom's voice from the bottom of the stairs. He's panting and light-headed and feels like his boner must be visible from space. He gets a few more inches between him and Adam, noting absently that the movie ended at some point, and finally he feels like he can speak.

"I'm upstairs watching a movie with Adam, Mom!" he calls out, not looking at Adam. He can hear her on the stairs, and now he glances at Adam, trying to figure out if it's totally obvious what they were just doing. He's just decided that it's not when his mom pushes open the door and he turns to her. "We uh. We just finished Highlander."

She rolls her eyes at him. "Again? I'll never understand how you can watch that movie over and over."

"I just like it," Tommy says, falling into the routine of this conversation easily and gratefully. "I can't explain why."

"Well, dinner's going to be on in about fifteen minutes, so unless Adam is eating with us—"

"Thanks, Mrs. Ratliff, but I've actually got to get home," Adam says.

She nods back at him. "Okay. Tommy—"

"I'll be at the table in fifteen," he interrupts. He knows he's pushing it a little with that, but she just waves at Adam and pulls the door about halfway shut. He can't bring himself to look at Adam until he can hear that she's back downstairs, and as soon as he catches Adam's eye they both burst into laughter, trying to stifle it with their hands.

"Dude," Tommy says, muffled behind his hands. Adam nods back at him, breathing deeply a couple of times before letting his hands drop to his lap, a couple of final giggles sneaking out before he stops completely.

"Well, that was close!" Adam says brightly. "Good times."

" _Good times,_ " Tommy agrees absently, belatedly realizing something. "You fucker, you totally missed the entire second half!"

Adam looks simultaneously smug and guilty. "Whoops?"

"Well, we'll just have to watch it again then," Tommy says, crossing his hands over his chest and trying to look stern. That fails rather spectacularly when Adam responds by looking at him intently, eyes roving all over his face.

"Fine by me."

* * *

Tommy always forgets how much fun away games are before the first one of the season. And then he remembers that playing the show before the game starts means the rest of the afternoon is spent goofing off with his friends for three hours and occasionally playing a song and watching the other team's band at halftime. There's something about being in the away stands at another high school, knowing that practically no one there knows who they are, that allows people to be completely crazy and impulsive, and Tommy always ends up laughing so hard that his cheeks hurt.

Occasionally there are setbacks, like that time David thought that singing to Liz from the top of the bleachers like Heath Ledger in _10 Things I Hate About You_ would be a good idea, but luckily between the two of them Isaac and Tommy were able to convince him that in real life, most girls would never speak to you again if you did that.

And then there are the bus rides to and from the games, which always feel like a field trip Tommy's actually excited about going on, for once. It's loud and crazy and people are having, like, seven conversations at once, and Tommy usually spends most of the time just watching and laughing at everyone else.

It's a little different this time though, sitting next to Adam on the way back to Bellington High, the two of them smushed together in one of the brown fake-leather seats, and all he can feel is Adam's thigh pressed up tight against his own. He knows that the seats aren't any smaller than they were last year, knows that the only difference is the fact that he's sitting next to Adam and can't stop thinking about how his hands felt against his skin. He's as quiet as he usually is on these bus trips, but this time it feels like it's out of self-preservation rather than simple preference.

They haven’t talked about what happened last week. Tommy had sort of been waiting to see whether or not he was going to freak out after all, and from some of the looks Adam had given him, so had he. But so far it doesn't seem like his brain actually has a problem with him making out with someone who is really hot and also happens to be a guy. He’d never really thought about guys, not really, but then again he’d never really thought all that much about girls either, so maybe that said something. Prior to now, most of the time he just thought about his trumpet, and how good he would need to get at the guitar before he wanted someone to hear him on it.

But now his body seems to be focused only on Adam’s, responding to the slightest shift Adam makes while he talks with Allison across the aisle. Tommy is thankful that Adam doesn’t seem to notice Tommy’s preoccupation, and he’s pretty sure that the fact that Tommy isn’t, like, cringing away from his touch has finally reassured Adam that he’s not about to stand up and point a finger at him and tell everyone that not only is Adam gay, he goes around _kissing guys_ who happen to be snuggled up under his arm at the time.

He’s not really sure that the crowd would be on his side, in any event. Adam’s done a pretty good job of endearing himself to the entire band in only 6 weeks.

When they all climb out of the bus after the forty-five minute drive back to Bellington, Tommy takes a deep breath, trying to clear his head a bit. He dumps his trumpet into his cubby, and maybe he is freaking out a little after all, if the shaky feeling he has is any indication. Just—how could he not have known at all? It’s not like he’s a dumb jock asshole — he has gay friends, for fuck’s sake.

Adam comes up to him, a concerned look on his face, and suddenly Tommy doesn’t really care about all that anyway. He didn’t know, whatever, now he does, boy howdy.

“You okay?” Adam asks. “You look like you want to punch a baby deer in the face or something.”

“Why would I punch a fawn in the face?” Tommy asks.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Adam says, and Tommy smiles a little almost against his will.

“I dunno, just my brain being stupid, you know,” Tommy says, walking out of the band room with Adam and heading for Adam’s car.

“What about?” Adam says, and rather than reveal himself to be a total baby closet case, Tommy says the first thing that comes to mind.

“Um, well, you know how I said I’ve started playing the guitar a little?” Tommy says as they climb into Adam’s car.

“Mmm-hmm.” Adam starts up the engine and hits the lights but keeps the car in park as he turns to look at Tommy.

Tommy looks down at his hands, flicking his nails a little and wondering if he should paint them black again. “I want to tell Mr. P and all, see if he knows a good guitar teacher who I can afford or whatever, but I don’t know, I just keep chickening out,” he says, realizing as he says it that it’s actually been bothering him more than he had admitted to himself.

“Why are you afraid to tell Mr. P? He loves you, he’ll think it’s awesome that you’re playing a new instrument.” Tommy glances over at him; Adam looks totally baffled.

“Because he’s an awesome guitar player. He played some stuff for my music theory class last year, and seriously, he’s just amazing. And like, that’s _why_ I started playing but I still totally suck, and I don’t want to tell him until I feel like I’m good enough for him to see.”

Adam’s expression has changed slightly; now he just looks like he wants to give Tommy a hug, which he wouldn’t say no to but makes him think about what he was anxious about before, and he quickly tries to get his brain back to freaking out over his guitar playing. “Tommy. He isn’t going to expect you to have mastered the instrument in, what, six months of playing?”

“Four,” Tommy says, feeling slightly petulant.

“Okay, _four_ months of playing. He’s just going to be Mr. P and help you out however he can, and tell you honestly what you need to do. And even if you’re awful, which I don’t believe for a minute that you are, you’re still an awesome trumpet player, and everyone needs a secondary instrument that they suck at but play for fun anyway. Mine’s the cymbals. We could start like a terrible progressive rock band with that,” Adam says, and Tommy laughs, shuddering.

“Maybe Isaac could sing,” Tommy says, laughing harder when Adam visibly winces.

“Oh god, and we could add David on the cowbell,” Adam says, and Tommy shakes his head.

“Nah, with our luck he’d actually be good, and then want us to, like, serenade Liz or something,” Tommy says.

Adam groans. “Okay, yeah, veto on David, good point,” he says, smiling at Tommy. “Seriously, though. Stop being an asshole and just fucking talk to him, okay?”

“Okay,” Tommy agrees. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Thanks, Adam.”

“No problem, I’m always here to tell my friends when they’re being dumb,” Adam says cheerfully, finally putting the car into gear and pulling out of the parking lot. “Hey, you wanna come over and watch a movie or something? My mom’s out on a date, of all things, and my brother’s like playing D&D or something at a friend’s house.”

“Uh, sure,” Tommy says, glancing over at him. Adam’s tone of voice was almost too-casual, his hands holding the steering wheel a little tighter than normal. Tommy looks back out the window, hands drumming on his thighs, telling himself that Adam might not mean anything by that. It’s not a big deal.

* * *

Tommy’s body definitely disagrees with his brain when Adam kisses him fifteen minutes into _Jesus Christ Superstar_ (just after Judas got done singing that song Adam loves, which Tommy has to admit is pretty fucking boss). The way that his mouth opened up for Adam the moment he touched him is a major fucking deal.

Tommy’s brain goes offline pretty soon after that though, his body responding to every touch like it just knows what to do, and who is Tommy to argue, really. Tommy rises up to meet Adam as he presses him back against the sofa cushions, arms locked around Tommy’s waist. He grabs for Adam’s hips, gasping with surprise when Adam pulls away suddenly.

“What—” he starts, and then he looks down at Adam’s lap, the outline of his hard dick clear through his pants, and when he glances back up at Adam’s face he can see faintly disguised panic starting to build. “Hey. Hey, it’s all good, Adam. No big deal, right? Doesn’t change anything,” he says, holding his hands still on the sides of Adam’s hips.

Adam looks back at him, eyes still wide and pupils blown, but his breathing calms down a bit. He finally says, "No big deal?" barely seeming to make it a question at all, and Tommy nods back at him.

"We're good, man, I promise," he says, tugging at Adam's hips until he moves back against Tommy, kissing him again.

And somehow now it's even better, knowing that Adam is hard, just from fucking kissing him, nothing else, and Tommy moans into Adam’s mouth and pulls at him until Adam finally grabs him by the hips, shoving his thigh in between Tommy's legs, and _oh._ Tommy gasps at the sudden pressure of Adam’s leg up against his hard-on, and he has a momentary panic of his own before he remembers that Adam's hard too, and now he _really_ knows it, because he can feel it, hot against his hip. And holy shit, that's Adam's cock, and Tommy thrusts up against Adam's leg, can't even help it, shuddering as Adam continues kissing him firmly.

He pulls away a little to catch his breath, which only sort of works when Adam starts kissing his way over to his ear, pulling the lobe into his mouth. And _Jesus,_ when one of the girls he messed around with licked into his ear he did not get the appeal at all, but his dick jumps in his pants when Adam bites down lightly and Tommy is taking notes, he swears. He pulls at Adam's shirt, clutching him closer, and then he realizes that Adam's hand has been moving down his chest and is now on his stomach, making little circles with his fingertips as he moves closer and closer to Tommy's hipbones, and God, he just wants Adam's hand on his cock so fucking badly.

He has a moment to wonder if he actually said that out loud before realizing that he couldn't have, he was too busy gasping for breath as Adam worked over his neck with his teeth, but he gets his wish anyway, because Adam's hand moves down to his buckle, and when Tommy pushes up against Adam he finally cups his hand around Tommy's cock. Tommy moans in response, letting his head fall back and shutting his eyes as he spreads open his legs as much as he can, pushing Adam off him a little so that Adam can do whatever he wants, seriously.

He feels Adam undo the top button and then slowly pull down the zipper, and even that little bit of room feels amazing, his hips hitching up towards the ceiling. Adam reaches in and pulls him out of the slit of his boxers, and Tommy has to open his eyes at that, has to look at Adam's face.

Adam is looking down at his dick, and Tommy flushes a little but can't really stay embarrassed when Adam starts to stroke him, slowly and firmly and with a little twist at the top that Tommy is totally trying on himself the next time he's jerking off and replaying this entire moment in his head. He blinks a little, trying to focus on Adam but instead looking around Adam's living room, belatedly realizing that his cock is hanging out of his pants and they're not even in a room with a _door_ for fuck's sake. And then Adam's hand starts to speed up, and any concerns about anything disappear because all he can focus on is how fucking good Adam is at this, Jesus Christ.

He lets his head drop back for a second and then lifts it up again a moment later, looking over at Adam's body and realizing that Adam's still hard and trapped in his jeans and this is seriously not cool of him, what the fuck. He gets one hand in under Adam's arm and starts going for Adam's fly when suddenly Adam's hand stops on his cock, and he looks at Adam's face, confused.

"You don't have to, you know," Adam says, but Tommy shakes his head. Fuck that.

"Fuck you, yes I do," he says, shaking his head and bringing his other hand to Adam's fly, pulling open the button and getting the fly down somehow. Adam's jeans are way tighter than his are and oh god, Adam's fucking huge. Like, he's trying to get it out, trying to get both of his hands on it because he is seriously going to need both hands, but he doesn't want to pull it the wrong way or something, what if his junk is like sensitive in a way Tommy's isn't or whatever.

Adam takes his hand off Tommy's cock, and for a moment Tommy is sure that he just fucked up everything, but instead Adam just gets his hands under Tommy's and pulls his briefs and jeans down a little, freeing his cock. Tommy takes a moment to just look at it — another guy's dick, holy fuck — and then he looks up at Adam, who's looking at him so fucking intently and Tommy has to kiss him again.

And if Tommy thought kissing Adam before was awesome, it has fucking nothing on kissing him while Adam jerks him off, his hands moving steady and firm on his cock. It takes Tommy a minute to even remember to go for Adam's dick again, but he gets his hands on it and Adam moans, his body shuddering, and oh god that gets Tommy so close, knowing that Adam wants his hands on his cock, and then Adam adds a little squeeze to the head of Tommy's cock and he's coming all over his shirt and Adam's hands and hopefully not Adam's mom's couch.

Adam's still kissing him, his hips thrusting into Tommy's hands that are still holding his dick tight, and Tommy tries to help out, he really does, but he can barely stay upright. It doesn't seem to matter though, because Adam's cock is suddenly jumping in his hands, and Tommy pulls away from Adam's kiss just in time to look down and see Adam come, getting all over Tommy's fingers and Adam's jeans.

 _I did that,_ he thinks numbly, looking back up to see Adam flopped back with his head lolling against the couch, panting loudly. Before he can stop himself, he blurts out, "That was fucking awesome," but luckily his mortification is short-lived when Adam lifts his head after he says it, smiling widely as he says "Fuck yeah it was," and kisses Tommy.

They make out for awhile, kissing lazily and trying to keep their clean clothes out of the spunk but not really caring that much. Tommy had no idea before now that making out _after_ an orgasm was totally great in its own way, when he didn't feel like his body was going to explode if he didn't get to come _right now._ He can focus on the feel of Adam's tongue in his mouth and the way their lips slide together without also worrying about whether Adam can feel his boner against his hip.

Although, based on Adam's reaction tonight, he probably wouldn't mind feeling that. Tommy's dick gives a feeble little twitch in response to that thought, and Tommy starts to laugh into Adam's mouth a little. Adam pulls away, smiling at him.

"What's up?" he asks, and for the second time this night Tommy doesn't exactly tell the truth, but he says what needs to be said.

"We should probably, you know, clean up before your mom or your brother gets home," he says, and Adam drops his head against Tommy's shoulder and laughs.

"You're probably right." Adam pulls away from Tommy, tucking himself back in and doing up his pants. "You want to borrow a shirt or something?" he says, gesturing at the come on Tommy's t-shirt, and Tommy laughs, trying not to blush and failing.

"Yeah, that'd probably be a good idea."

* * *

“So when did you first dye your hair?” Tommy asks as Adam drives him back to his house.

Adam glances over at him. “Who ever said that I dye it?” he replies, laughing when Tommy rolls his eyes.

“The freckles were kind of a giveaway.”

“Hey now, no talking smack about the freckles,” Adam says, and Tommy decides not to mention how much he actually likes them. He’s pretty sure Adam wouldn’t appreciate it.

“Seriously, though. When did you do it?” Tommy asks again.

Adam hums thoughtfully, turning onto the street that will take them the long way back to Tommy’s house as usual. “I dyed it over the summer before my sophomore year. I was in a show that summer and the director wanted me to look more Mediterranean, and then I decided I liked it, and that was that.”

“What did your parents think?”

“Oh, they didn’t care. Honestly, I’m pretty sure my parents were surprised I hadn’t done something like that earlier. I spent a lot of time when I was younger messing around with my mom’s makeup and stuff, and the only thing that got me to stop doing that was when they bought me my own makeup kit. And now I just buy it for myself,” Adam says.

“You don’t wear a lot around school, though,” Tommy says. He’s noticed Adam wearing eyeliner during the games, and his nails are always dark, but that’s about it.

Adam shrugs. “I’m not going to hide what I am, or how I like to dress, but it’s fucking high school, you know? Who the fuck am I trying to impress? I kind of went through that already at my old school, honestly. Like, not always — my freshman year I just spent the whole time trying to hide, except it didn’t even work since Gary figured me out in a second. But luckily he was someone I wanted to see me. And then after that, I was sick of hiding.”

Tommy shifts a little in his seat, putting both feet up on the dashboard. “Are you— I mean. Do your parents know you’re gay?”

Adam nods. “Oh yeah. They never knew about Gary or anything, but when I kept dyeing my hair even after the show ended, my parents began hinting all the time – you know, mentioning their gay friends or bringing up gay celebrities or whatever. And then when I met Brad, I really had a reason to tell them, or at least that’s what got me to actually have the conversation. And once they knew, and all my friends out there, I was just like fuck it. I’m not going to pretend anymore, no matter who I’m around or what school I’m at or any of that shit.” He looks over at Tommy and laughs. “And once again I've spent five minutes answering a two second question.”

“No, it’s cool. I like hearing you talk. I mean, you seem really comfortable in your skin, that’s all,” Tommy says, pushing a hand up through the back of his hair.

“I am,” Adam says simply. “It’s not something that just happened, or that didn’t take a lot of effort, but I’m not going to let anyone else tell me shit about who I am. I did that for long enough, and I’m not doing it again.”

“Even if you’re fucking awful at the cymbals,” Tommy says, and Adam laughs and grins at him.

“Even then.”

* * *

"So you're sure you know what you're doing? Like, actually sure, not just 'I'll wing it and it'll be fine' sure?"

"Tommy, relax. I’ve read over the directions twice, I looked up advice online, and Sophie backed up my thoughts on how we should do this. I mean, we agree, it's gotta be right," Isaac says, snapping the rubber gloves onto his hands.

"Or it means that you're both wrong and you're gonna burn my scalp off," Tommy says, shivering a little on the edge of the tub, the window in Isaac's bathroom thrown wide open. Tommy’s not a fan of the cold, and he's only wearing a worn-out undershirt and a pair of gym shorts that he's willing to sacrifice to the hair dye gods.

Sophie crouches down next to him, putting a hand on his knee. "Tommy, whenever we agree it's actually a really good sign, okay? Just trust us," and okay, this is a little more reassurance than Tommy really needs. It's just his hair. And his scalp. He's going to be fine.

He nods, looking at his reflection in the mirror and studying his dirty blond mop of hair. He started really growing it out last spring, right around when he started playing the guitar if he's honest with himself, and it's finally time to actually try this. "Okay. Go for it," he says, and Sophie nods and gets her hands in his hair, creating a vertical part just above his temples or so and tying off the top part of his hair in a ponytail.

"So I'm going to shave everything below here, right?" she says, and Tommy nods, his heart beating faster as he considers it. "And Isaac is gonna get the mix ready, so as soon as I'm done, he'll bring it over and get it in your hair, okay?"

"Sounds good," Tommy says. He takes a deep breath and tips his head down as Sophie brings the clippers up to the back of his neck and starts. He loses himself in the sound of the buzzing, follow the lead of Sophie's hand as she tilts his head one way and then the opposite, his hair falling over his shoulders and into the bathtub. He startles when she shuts it off, lifting his head up and opening his eyes to see just what he's done.

"I think it'll look better when it's platinum," Sophie says.

"Also when it's not in a freaking ponytail," Isaac adds, and Tommy flips them both off in the mirror. "Whatever, man, you ready for the second half?" Isaac asks, and Tommy smirks.

"Do your worst," he says, trying to breathe in and out of his mouth when Isaac comes over with the mixture because damn, that shit is noxious.

* * *

Whenever Tommy had thought about what it would be like to dye his hair, he hadn't really factored in the fucking hour-long wait before he could rinse out the stuff, or the fact that his head would be wrapped in a plastic bag.

"Uh." Isaac looks at the timer on the counter and then back at them. "Wanna look at youtube for an hour?"

* * *

After he finally gets to rinse out his hair and wash it, he has to wait while Sophie adds some sort of goop to it and then insists on blowing it dry, even though Tommy's hair is stick-straight anyway. "It's important to really know how to do it when you've got an involved hairstyle like this, Tommy!" she says, and he has to admit she has a point when she finally finishes and then lets him see the final result.

"Dude," Tommy says.

" _Dude,_ " Isaac says.

"I work fucking miracles," Sophie says.

* * *

His mom laughs a little and shakes her head when she sees what Tommy's done, which he totally counts as a massive victory and a sign that he's successfully worn her down. Mr. P gives him a smirk when he sees him the next morning, but none of Tommy's other teachers even seem to notice, which just solidifies his belief that he could replace himself with a cardboard cutout in most of his classes and totally get away with it. David stares at him, open-mouthed, before finally demanding to know how he can do it too.

Adam just grins when he sees him, wide and easy and genuine.

* * *

There’s always at least one game a year when the weather is just gross, cold and wet and gray, and the last weekend in October is when it happens this year. Tommy clutches the case of his old trumpet in his hands as he waits for Adam to pick him up; he's definitely not subjecting his baby to this sort of weather. He still has a soft spot in his heart for his first trumpet, of course — he learned on her, played her for 6 years before his commitment had finally convinced his parents that buying him a good instrument was actually an investment in his talent, not just indulging a frivolous whim or fancy.

Adam pulls up in his car, and Tommy runs out of his house, wishing he’d put on something more than just a hoodie. He climbs into the front seat, dumping the case at his feet.

"Today sucks," Adam announces, and Tommy nods.

"Yeah, there's not gonna be any Beaver Football after the game today, I can guarantee you that," he says as they head towards the high school.

"It never rained for a single game at my old school," Adam says wistfully, and Tommy glances at him, smirking.

"You SoCal boys are so fucking soft, man," he says, and Adam scoffs.

"What-the-fuck-ever, your lips turn blue if you're outside for longer than like ten minutes. And you never dress warmly enough, what the fuck is this," he says, pulling on the sleeve of Tommy's hoodie. "You need a parka and a poncho and, like, a scarf, okay?"

"I do not need a fucking parka," Tommy says, trying not to shiver or hold his arms too obviously.

Adam snorts. "You would huddle down into one in a fucking second if I said I happened to have one in my trunk," he says, and Tommy makes the mistake of looking at him hopefully. "Hah!" Adam says, pointing a finger at him before bringing both hands back to the wheel like the responsible driver he is, fucking boy scout. "You're not fooling me, Tommy. Not even a little," he says, and Tommy pouts.

* * *

When they arrive at the school, everyone is running around and getting the band ponchos on over their uniforms. Tommy's not exactly sure why, but just adding a sheet of plastic to their outfits seems to give people license to be even louder than normal — no one really looks like they're real, or something. Almost aliens, he thinks, getting changed into his uniform and adding the poncho over it.

For all that Adam gave him grief on the car ride over, he's the one who's complaining about playing outside in the rain, although he's doing it in such a funny way that no one seems to notice. Tommy's not fooled though, and if there's one thing he's sure of, an afternoon of sitting in the rain with a cranky, unhappy Adam is going to be way less fun than a rain-soaked afternoon with an Adam determined to have fun.

"Seriously, dude, you're thinking about this all the wrong way," he says, and Adam stops in the middle of whatever clever thing he was saying. "These are like some of the best band days, honestly."

"How the fuck are these the best days?" Adam asks, crossing his arms and looking suspicious but open.

"Like, okay. So there are the kids who'll just do the bare minimum to get through the day, right, and then there are the kids who'll make it an awesome day even when it's shitty outside," Tommy explains. He's not even pulling Adam's leg at this point; his freshman year he tried to suffer through a rainy game, and it was so miserable that the following year he was fucking determined to actually figure out how to have fun doing it. "It's like a rite of passage or something. We are way better than the rain, okay? We can make this weather be _fun._ "

Adam looks thoughtful. "I _am_ the water bearer," he says, and when Tommy looks at him funny Adam flaps his hands around. "I'm an Aquarius, that's my sign, how do you not know that it's the water bearer?" Adam asks, clearly shocked.

"Dunno, must just be a California thing," Tommy says, pleased. Adam is already about twice as animated as he was five minutes ago, an excellent sign.

"Oh come on, what's your sign, I'll bet you know it," Adam says.

"Uh, I think Libra?" Tommy says. He's pretty sure one of the girls he hooked up with told him that.

Adam frowns. "Wait a minute, when was your birthday?" he asks, and Tommy suddenly regrets bringing this up, however inadvertently.

"Couple of weeks ago," he says evasively, and Adam looks outraged.

"Dude, why didn't you tell me?" he asks, and Isaac interrupts.

"Tommy's really sensitive about being past his prime already, didn't want the focus, it’s tragic really. Also, Mr. P has been trying to get us to line up for like five minutes, so finish this in the bleachers, okay?" Isaac says, getting the harness for his snare drum up over his shoulders. Tommy hurries over to his spot, but he's pretty sure from the look Adam gave him that this conversation isn't over yet.

* * *

Luckily, things are crazy enough in the stands as they get dry cushions down on the metal seats that Tommy can successfully avoid Adam for the first half of the game. Tommy usually stands for most of the games, but that's a bad plan during the rain games, even with his poncho — somehow he always ends up with it bunched up around his hips and gets his pants soaked anyway.

Adam's giving him little looks, but Tommy just talks with David, getting caught up on the Liz situation, which has apparently hit some bumps. However, by halftime he's beginning to thing that it'll be worth the lecture and puppy dog eyes Adam's going to give him to escape David's endless second guessing about the appropriate next step. Tommy's pretty sure that just asking her out again would be a fairly solid plan, but according to David he lacks vision.

They make it though the halftime show, their shoes holding up well enough on the grass and their instruments reasonably in tune. Tommy's pretty proud of the group, on the whole — it really makes a difference for the people who actually stick it out for the game to have something to distract them while they're waiting desperately for the team to get back out on the field so that they can get home and dry as soon as possible.

When they get back into the stands, Mr. P pulls them all in for an announcement. "Nice work out there, guys — that was a great performance in bad conditions, and you should all be happy with how you did. If any of you want to go home for the second half, I'm not going to stop you, but I'm sticking around for the whole game, and I hope you will too. Go Beavers!" he finishes, grinning like he always does whenever he says it.

Tommy looks around the stands, checking to see who's going to wimp out and go, but he's actually pretty pleased at how few people leave. He looks over at Adam to see that Adam is already staring at him intently, almost challengingly. Tommy decides that it's time to just get it over with and walks over to stand with the drum corps.

"Hey," he says to Adam, who looks at him and then knocks into his shoulder.

"Hey," Adam says back. He clears his throat. "So why didn't you tell me about your birthday, dude? I just don't get it."

Tommy sighs a little. "It's not like a thing or whatever. I just don't want to be the center of attention like that, and if people know about your birthday then it's just this constant thing, and like. It's not like _I_ did anything, my mom's the one who should get the attention, all I did was survive birth, you know?" he says.

Adam looks at him, considering, and after a minute he starts to laugh, shaking his head. "You can be a morbid little guy, you know that?" he says, and Tommy nods. He knows. Adam stops laughing, studying Tommy’s face, and finally he shrugs. "Okay. I guess if you just don't want people to make a big deal of your birthday, I can respect that."

"Thanks," Tommy says, relieved. He had thought that this conversation was going to be way worse than it was. He had only just managed to convince his mom that he really didn't need a party or whatever for his birthday, and he was pretty sure that Adam had been planning to do some sort of fucking belated surprise party or something for him. He's about to ask Adam how he's holding up and whether or not he's planning on sticking it out until the end when he realizes that Adam is looking at the cheerleaders and— _glaring,_ what the fuck?

"Adam—" he starts to say, and then Adam whips his head around and Tommy stops.

"Why the fuck are they just standing there looking miserable?" he demands, gesturing down at the squad. Tommy looks, and it's true, none of them are moving, just standing there with their arms crossed, occasionally milling over to one another and talking. What they're definitely not doing is cheering, and when Tommy starts to think about it he doesn't think he's heard anything out of them since the beginning of the half.

"That's fucking bullshit, if there are gonna be cheerleaders at a fucking game in the first place they should be cheering, especially on a day like this," Adam says, standing up and walking to the center of the walkway at the bottom of their section of bleachers. Tommy has just enough time to wonder what the fuck Adam is doing before Adam shows him.

"H-O-T-T-O-G-O Say Bellington High is Hot to Go, Say whoop! Hot to go, Say whoop! Hot to go!" Adam cheers, doing the little side-to-side shuffle and clap and fucking skirt swish in time to the chant, only he doesn't have a skirt on so it loses some of the effect.

Although a six-foot-tall dude wearing a plastic poncho and doing a cheer like that has plenty of impact on its own, so.

Adam is glaring down at the cheerleaders, who are glaring back at him, and Tommy starts to think that Adam's just going to give up when Isaac pops up down there with Adam.

"One! We are the Beavers Two! A little bit louder Three! I still can't hear you, more More MORE **MORE!** " Isaac chants, Adam joining in after the first five words. Tommy watches as David and Allison join in the line, and at this point _he's_ the one not, like, participating with the full spirit of band or whatever, and so he gets down there just in time for a reprise of Hot to Go.

The football players on the sidelines can obviously hear them — they could probably hear Adam all by himself clear as a bell, dude has pipes — and they're turning around and applauding the cheers. The cheerleaders reluctantly start cheering themselves, but their hearts aren't in it, Tommy can tell. His friends are way better.

Proving that the band totally owns the cheerleaders when it comes to battling the elements definitely makes the rest of the game go faster, but by the time the Beavers win yet again Tommy is fucking ready to be out of his poncho and wet uniform and back in his own dry clothes. The stands empty out a bit towards the end after all, so there aren’t as many people to navigate through in the band room, and he grabs his stuff out of his cubby and sneaks into one of the little practice rooms down the hall to change.

He’s just gotten the top of his uniform off and is working on the undershirt when the door suddenly opens.

"Hey Tommy, Isaac wanted to know if you were coming to—" Adam stops as he stares at Tommy, hand still on the door knob. Tommy's skin is clammy and cold from the rain, but he's pretty sure that's not why he suddenly gets goosebumps all over.

"Close the door," he says, and Adam does, dropping his bag on the ground and pushing Tommy up against the back wall, kissing him and getting his hands down low on Tommy's hips, right where the waistband of his uniform hits. Tommy manages to get his hands to work on Adam's jacket, shucking it to the floor, and Adam's not wearing anything underneath it so suddenly Tommy is dealing with all this _skin_ pressed up against him, and he moans around Adam's tongue in his mouth.

He's got his hands tight in Adam's hair now, his arms sliding over Adam's bare shoulders, and he’s still shivering, shuddering when Adam brings his hands around to the small of his back and slowly lets them move down to his ass. He gasps when Adam breaks away from his mouth and moves to his throat, sucking along the tendons of his neck. Tommy has the fleeting thought that a hickey might not be the best plan but it's not like he's going to stop Adam, Jesus Christ, and he's pretty sure that he’s not staying at one place long enough for it to be an issue.

Adam's hunched over a bit, his legs bent enough so that his hips more or less line up with Tommy's as he thrusts against him, pushing him back against the wall. It feels good, of course, the pressure against Tommy's hard cock just what he’s looking for, but he feels like it could be better. He pushes off against the wall just enough to get Adam to spin around. Adam's head hits the wall and he lets out a little "Ow!"

"Sorry," Tommy says, liking the way that Adam sort of looms over him when he's standing up tall, but he's also a fan of Adam sliding down the wall a bit, opening up his legs for Tommy to stand between.

"Don't apologize," Adam says before kissing him again, holding his ass firmly against him, and Tommy struggles to get his hands down between them, to get open the fucking polyester pants so that he can get to Adam's dick again. Adam isn't stopping him, not exactly, but it isn't until Tommy manages to get his pants undone and Adam's cock out of his briefs that he eases up at all, sighing into Tommy's mouth.

Tommy is determined to do this better this time, to do more than just hold his hands still while Adam, like, uses them to get off (although Adam certainly didn’t complain about it). He starts off slow, stroking over the head with the palm of his hand before jacking Adam nice and smooth, the pre-cum leaking from Adam's cockhead easing the slide a little. Adam's stopped kissing him, his head tilted back against the wall and his mouth open wide, and Tommy rests his forehead against Adam's clavicle as he watches his hand stroking Adam.

He feels like he's practically in a trance, watching Adam's cock slide in and out of his hand, the length of it hard and hot against his skin, and almost before he realizes what he’s doing he's getting onto his knees, desperate to taste, to feel it against his lips.

"Tommy, what are you—oh, _fuck,"_ Adam says, dropping his head back against the wall as Tommy licks over the crown of Adam's cock. Tommy's the first to admit that he doesn't have a clue about how to do this, not really — it's not like he's ever gotten a blowjob, and the blowjobs he's seen in porn either involved techniques that looked ridiculous and pointless even to him or frankly improbable given the size of Adam's dick.

Because if Tommy thought that Adam seemed big in his hands, it's nothing to what it's like taking the first couple of inches into his mouth, his lips stretched wide. He keeps his hands going on the shaft, brushing down over Adam's balls a little, but mostly he's concentrating on not drooling all over himself and trying to keep up something resembling a rhythm. He's never been so happy about the fact that Adam can't keep quiet, ever — the small noises and hitches of breath from above make Tommy's face heat, knowing that it's his mouth that’s causing Adam's hands to grip his shoulders so hard.

"Tommy," Adam says suddenly, hands holding on a little tighter than a moment before. "Tommy, you've gotta— _oh,_ " and Tommy's mouth is flooded with come. He almost pulls off, not sure what to do, but then he reasons that it's not like there's anything he can spit into in this room, so he just keeps his mouth tight over Adam's cock as he comes, twitching and shuddering. He finally pulls off once he's pretty sure that Adam's finished, and he makes himself swallow. It's not too bad, really, nothing fabulous, but it's way less bad than the talks about _girls who swallow_ had led him to believe.

He looks up at Adam, who's staring down at him and panting, and then Adam gets his hands under Tommy's armpits, hauling him up and kissing him, shoving his tongue into his mouth. Tommy groans when he realizes that Adam's tasting _himself,_ holy fuck, opening his mouth wide for him, and then Adam's swinging him back around and shoving Tommy up against the wall before falling to his knees and pulling Tommy's pants open.

Tommy looks down at him helplessly, totally dazed and feeling like he lost the plot at some point but more than happy with where he's ended up, and then Adam takes him down all the way on the first try and his brain shuts off completely. Tommy's not small, dick-wise — he hasn't had many opportunities to compare and contrast, but he's talked about it with Isaac and David, and based on what they said he's doing pretty well for himself. And Adam just takes it all in, like it's nothing, and then he's bobbing up and down and Tommy can barely brace himself up against the wall, knees locked, hands holding onto Adam's face and feeling his own cock through Adam’s cheek, Jesus fuck.

He's not expecting it when Adam takes another deep breath and goes all the way down, and he's really not expecting it when Adam fucking _swallows_ around him, and his dick gives up the fight and he starts to come, shoving his fist in his mouth to try to muffle his moans. It's like nothing he's ever felt before, practically impossible to describe, and when Adam slowly pulls off and licks over his cockhead after swallowing, Tommy's entire body twitches.

The pressure of Adam's hands on the tops of his thighs is the only thing keeping him upright at this point, and even that's not a sure thing. Adam gets up on his knees, bringing his hands up around Tommy's waist, and he supports him as Tommy slowly slides down the wall, legs splaying out as much as they can with his pants still around his thighs. He blinks slowly at Adam, who sways towards him as if to kiss him but veers off at the last second.

He makes a questioning sound, and Adam shrugs. "Just didn't know if you wanted to kiss after, you know," he says, and Tommy grunts a little, low in his throat, and he pulls Adam's face to his. They kiss lazily, Tommy's lips still buzzing, and he's not sure he could get a sound out of his trumpet if he tried to play right now. He starts to laugh a little, and Adam pulls back. "What's up?" he asks.

"This would be a really shitty warm-up for the trumpet," Tommy says, voice wrecked.

Adam looks rather confused and like he's waiting for the punchline. "Okay?" he says finally.

"Just. Never mind," Tommy says, letting his head rest against Adam's shoulder.

"Funny little dude," Adam says.

"Whatever, _you're_ funny," Tommy say.

"Good one," Adam says, and Tommy punches him in the side and stays quiet as they sit there for as long as they dare given that they're in a fucking practice room. Even once his brain gets back online it takes Tommy a while before he can convince his body to push Adam off him and to get out of the rest of his uniform and into his street clothes. He's just getting his sneakers on when he remembers something.

"Did you ask me something when you first came in?" he asks Adam, who looks confused for a moment before his face clears.

"Oh! Yeah, Isaac wanted to know if you were in for the movie tonight," Adam say.

"Right right. Yeah, I am — you coming?" Tommy asks.

"Can't, I'm hanging out with Cam, we're actually going to practice something, her on keys and me singing," Adam says.

Tommy grins widely, can't help it. "I wouldn't think this would be the best warm-up for your voice either," he says, and Adam smirks back at him.

"I can handle it," Adam says, and Tommy rolls his eyes, laughing at the same time.

When they get back into the band room, Isaac and Sophie and David and Liz are still out there, arguing over something as usual.

"Jesus, where the fuck have you two been, we're going to miss the start," David says, grabbing his jacket and pulling it on.

"There are like fifteen minutes of previews before every movie, we'll be fine," Sophie says serenely.

"That is so not the point," David says, following her out of the band room towards the parking lot. Tommy looks at Isaac, who's still standing near the doors, watching him and wearing an expression Tommy can't really name but doesn't like instinctively.

"Ready to go?" Tommy asks. Isaac nods back and turns to walk out. "Uh, see you Monday?" he says to Adam, smiling when he sees the look on Adam's face.

"You got it," Adam says.

* * *

Tommy begins to think that maybe he should have been paying a little more attention to how the football team was doing when the last regular game of the season comes around and everyone's talking about the playoffs starting next week.

"Playoffs?" he asks, blinking a little as they walk back into the band room after another big win. Now that he stops to think about it, they have won a lot of games this fall, but he figured he had just missed it when they lost.

Isaac smiles a little as David lays into him. "Tommy, we haven't lost a game all season. We're the fucking number one seed in our division. We're not just going to the playoffs, we're going to freaking _own_ them," he says with a maniacal look in his eyes.

"Oh," Tommy says, glancing at Adam, who's looking just as surprised as he feels, if a little less interested. "So then are we playing next weekend too?" he asks.

David rolls his eyes. "Of course! We've been there every step of the way, we're not just gonna cut and run now, when the team needs us most. You're not, like, bailing, are you?" he asks suspiciously.

"Dude, of course not, I just didn't fucking know, okay?" Tommy says. Whatever, he's had a lot on his mind this fall — college applications and keeping his grades up and hair maintenance and burgeoning sexual epiphanies. His attention's been otherwise occupied.

"Do you really think that the band's presence has an actual impact on how well the team plays?" Adam asks dubiously.

"Well, I can't actually say for sure, but I'm not going to, like, test that out next weekend at the first playoff game, because what if it does and they lose? I mean, seriously," David says, looking pretty proud of his airtight logic.

"Then they probably just weren't as good as the other team," Adam says, and Isaac shakes his head and puts his hand on Adam's arm while David sputters.

"No, see, you're looking at this all wrong, man. This is about having faith in your team, and knowing that the way you root for them is what makes the difference. You're a part of it," Isaac explains, David nodding along, starry-eyed.

Adam looks at both of them, over to Tommy, and then back again. "So basically you're saying that sports fans are completely delusional?"

"That's it _exactly,_ " Isaac says. David sighs, throws up his hands in the air and storms off while Tommy laughs.

"It's like believing in Jesus, only instead of worshiping the dead Son of God or whatever, you worship a bunch of guys in helmets and tight pants," Tommy says, throwing his trumpet case back into his cubby, and Adam snorts.

"Hey now, don't discriminate, it isn't any less logical to believe in Jesus than it is to believe in any other type of god, be fair," Isaac says, and Tommy shrugs.

" _Anyway,_ " Adam says, touching Tommy's arm. "You're going to the rest of the games, though, right?" he asks.

Tommy looks at him and nods, feeling like he's caught in Adam's focus all of a sudden. "Uh, yeah. I was just playing with David, of course I'm going to go," he says, feeling Isaac's eyes on his face. He turns a little bit and looks at Isaac deliberately. "What's the schedule gonna be, do you know?"

Isaac gives Tommy an assessing look but says, "There are eight teams left, and it’s win or go home. If we lose next weekend, we're done, that's it. But if we win, we'll play in the semi-finals or whatever, and if we win that we go on to the State Finals. That’ll be like the first weekend in December, I think? So the Friday before the Fall Formal."

"That'll be a pretty crazy weekend, if we win," Adam says, and Isaac nods. "Has Bellington ever done this well before?" he asks, and Tommy shakes his head.

"Not since I've been here, at least," he says. "Last year I don't think we won more than three games all season."

"Ha!" Adam says smugly, and at Tommy's look of confusion he continues. "What's different about Bellington this year? I'm here. So clearly _I'm_ the reason we're suddenly kickass."

"That logic is as good as David's, dude," Isaac says, and Tommy shakes his head.

"I think it might even be better," Tommy says, ducking out of the way as Adam tries to grab him in a headlock. He avoids the first pass, but on the second try Adam gets his arm around his shoulders. And Tommy knows intellectually that this isn't the same as snuggling up with Adam on a couch or a bed or even in a practice room, but his body apparently didn't get the memo, because he relaxes into Adam's grip rather than pulling away. He feels Adam's arm tighten around him momentarily before he releases Tommy, stepping back.

"Hey, so I promised Allison that I'd go out with her tonight," Adam says, voice just a little lower than normal. "I think she wants to show me the last like ten emails she got from her kinda-sorta-girlfriend so that I can tell her what they mean for the future, like tea leaves." He grins as he puts on his jacket. "I'll see you guys on Monday?"

"Sounds good," Isaac says, and Tommy raises a hand to wave as Adam leaves, not trusting his voice yet. He and Isaac get the rest of their stuff together and head out towards Isaac's car. Tommy thinks he might actually be safe when they've turned on the radio and pulled out of the school parking lot without Isaac saying anything, but then Isaac asks, "So dude, seriously, what is up with you and Adam?"

"What do you mean?" Tommy asks weakly, and from the look Isaac shoots him that sounded as pathetic to him as it did in his own head. He tries again. "No, I mean, it's really nothing."

"Yeah, but what exactly is the thing that's nothing?" Isaac asks, and Tommy looks out the window, tucking one foot under the other and crossing his arms across his chest. "Hey. Tommy. You know that whatever it is, it's cool, right? It’s not like I have a set quota for gay friends and Adam's already filled it."

Tommy smiles a little at that, and he looks over at Isaac, who's watching the road and yet is clearly focused on Tommy. "Yeah, Isaac. I know. That's not. That's not really what I'm worried about," he says, his stomach tightening up.

"What is, then?" Isaac asks, and Tommy swallows and tries to get his mouth to just say it.

"Look, so me and Adam have hooked up or whatever a couple of times," he says, feeling like he barely got enough oxygen in his lungs to say that much.

"Okay," Isaac says. "And?"

"And that's it. I mean. It's not a big deal for him, it's just like, you know, whatever," Tommy says, trying to console himself that he can't possibly sound as lame about this as David does about Liz. It doesn't really help.

"And is it a big deal for you?" Isaac asks quietly. Tommy nods, afraid of what'll come out if he lets himself speak. "Okay. I gotcha. But Tommy, I gotta ask, why do you think it's not a big deal for Adam? Because from the outside it looks like he's into you, man, I have to tell you."

Tommy tips his head back against the seat and laughs hollowly. "Because he fucking told me, Isaac. The first time it happened. And now I think I'm like his gay project or whatever, and I am really fucking cool with the learning curve, you know, but I'm fucking up the most important rule, because I'm hot for teacher, like. If Adam, you know, were the teacher," Tommy finishes, curling up in his seat as much as he can.

Isaac makes a humming sound. "Okay, well I think I can parse through the like seventeen different cliches in there—"

"Oh, fuck you," Tommy mutters, mouth twitching involuntarily.

"—and see what you're saying, except I still think you're wrong. I mean, has he said he wants to stop?" Isaac asks.

"We haven't really done a whole lot of talking about it, period," Tommy says.

"Oh _really._ Well, I can see why you're so sure of where Adam is in all of this, then. Given the extensive discussions you've had," Isaac says, making a stifled _oof_ sound when Tommy hits him in the arm.

"Just, trust me on this, okay? It's not like you're making it sound," Tommy says.

Isaac is silent for a moment, and Tommy fiddles with the radio for a bit, trying to find something that doesn't completely suck. "Okay, dude. Whatever you say. You okay, then?" he asks finally.

Tommy shrugs, finally landing on some old school Metallica. "Sure. Why wouldn't I be?" he asks, and when he changes the subject to Sophie's current art project, Isaac doesn't push him.

  
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The first playoff game doesn't really feel that different from a regular season game at first. Sure, Tommy definitely notices that there are as many fans in the stands for this game as there tend to be on Homecoming weekend, and the extra signs people are waving around, and the fact that the cheerleaders actually seem to be trying to contribute now. But it isn't until Bellington falls behind by a touchdown in the second quarter that Tommy really feels it. Everyone immediately gets tense, shouting out support to the team and clutching at each other's hands like they never did during the regular season. The pep songs take on a special urgency too, and while Tommy is still pretty sure that David is crazy to think that the band really affects the team's playing, he has to admit that he puts more into it, focusing on the fight song like he hasn't since freshman year. And it's clear he's not alone, from the way the music swells up around him, the band playing with a precision and clarity they almost never do during the pep songs.

The Beavers tie it up right before the half, and by the time the band takes the field for the halftime show Tommy is completely swept up by the excitement. The band plays the best they have all season, a tight performance with a bright, clear sound, and Tommy almost isn't surprised when the team comes out strong in the second half, scoring in the first five minutes and never trailing again for the rest of the game. He watches as the clock counts down to 0:00 with everyone else, bringing his trumpet up at the last second and playing the school song loudly as the team celebrates on the field, hugging and knocking helmets and leaping up to bump chests before going over for the post-game handshakes with the other team.

Tommy and his friends take their time making their way back to the band room, playing blasts of noise on their instruments in response to the victory honks from the cars slowly exiting the main school parking lot. By the time they get back to the band room, Tommy is breathless from laughter, leaning up against David's back as they head towards the cubbies.

"Okay, okay, you were right, playoff games aren't like regular season games," Tommy says, pulling away enough to get his trumpet back in the case.

"I know right? Just, the energy and the tension and all that — it's fucking awesome," David says, eyes bright.

"I have to admit, I actually spent some of that game looking at the field occasionally," Adam says, and everyone stares at him. He shrugs, unperturbed. "I can get into sports! Sort of. I know it's good when we score?" he tries.

David pats his arm. "It's progress, man, I'm proud of you. We'll work on it."

"You only have like two games left to complete the conversion though, work fast," Adam says, his uniform already back up on his hanger. He frowns as he looks around the floor around them. "Hey, have any of you seen my beret?" he asks.

Tommy glances around, looking for one of the white berets that the drum corps wears instead of the big hats the rest of the band has to deal with. "I don't think you were wearing it when we came back from the field, dude," he says.

"Yeah, I think he's right," Isaac says, pulling Sophie in with an arm around her waist after doing the most cursory search Tommy has ever seen.

Adam sighs, pulling his jacket on. "All right, I'm gonna head back down to the field, see if I can find it. I'll see you guys at Isaac's afterwards, okay?" he says, turning towards the doors.

"I'll come help you look," Tommy says impulsively, grabbing his own jacket.

Adam stops. "You sure? You don't have to, it's gotten pretty cold," he says, eyes searching Tommy's face.

Tommy shrugs. "It's like 45 degrees out, it's not that cold. And you'll have a better chance of actually finding it with me helping, and we can just go to Isaac's together, right?" he asks, carefully not looking at Isaac's face.

"Right," Adam says, smiling a little. "And yeah, maybe your years of experience playing in the stands will help me find it faster."

"I don't think that's really how it works," David says behind them as they leave, and Tommy is pretty sure he can hear Isaac shutting him up. He tries to ignore them and really hopes Adam hasn't been around Isaac and David long enough to notice.

* * *

They walk down to the field slowly, Tommy with his hands shoved into his pockets because while 45 degrees isn't cold, exactly, it's not really warm either.

"How did you manage to lose your beret, anyway?" he asks, teasing a little but really curious, actually. Adam is remarkably precise about the location and condition of all his wardrobe items, and normally that extends to his band uniform.

"I don't know! I think it was the excitement and everything. Like, I don't really care about the game, honestly, not even now, but I like it when everyone else is so excited, you know, and I think I just got distracted," he says, hands waving all over the place as he explains. "So I probably just didn't put it on right away when it fell off when we were all hugging after we won and forgot to find it later."

Tommy nods, not _trying_ to bump into Adam while they're walking, not really, but he keeps pressing up against Adam's arm, and while it's not surprising exactly that Adam doesn't move away from him, it still makes Tommy feel a little warmer when Adam just keeps walking exactly the same way.

They climb up into the stands where the band sits, the field and surrounding areas totally deserted, and they start looking on the bleachers, row by row. Tommy looks down at the ground underneath the bleachers through the metal slats, and that's when he sees the beret, the bright white of the material standing out against the dark ground.

"Hey, Adam, it's underneath the stands," he calls out.

"Oh, awesome," Adam says, heading for the stairs that lead down below. Tommy follows him, pointing out exactly where the beret is, and it's not exactly intentional when he ends up standing a little too close to Adam when he stands back up after reaching down and grabbing the beret, but Adam suddenly being right up against him isn't a bad thing.

The way that Adam looks over his face for a moment before dropping the beret again and pulling Tommy in for a kiss isn't really a bad thing either.

Tommy surges up against him, holding his face in both of his hands as he opens his mouth to Adam's kiss, arching a little as Adam bends him back. Adam's hands are huge against his spine and hold him firmly, roaming up to his shoulders and then down to his ass. Tommy breaks away at that a little bit, gasping out for breath when Adam squeezes and pulls on his ass with his right hand. It's crazy the way he seems to fit in Adam's arms, the way his body knows how to respond to what Adam's asking for. He kisses Adam again, getting his hands into his hair and brushing his thumbs over Adam's temples.

He's starting to feel a little precarious, like he's not really sure how he's being held up at all, when Adam begins walking him backwards. He goes with it, trying not to trip over his heels, but when he feels the sturdy iron column up against his back he relaxes against it immediately. Adam gets a thigh in between his legs, and he thrusts up against it, his dick already hard and heavy in his pants. He can feel Adam's hands down on his hips, and then they move up his torso slowly, brushing over his nipples before they come up under Tommy's arms. Tommy doesn't really know what's going on when Adam pulls his arms up and presses them against the column above Tommy's head, but he's willing to go with most of Adam's ideas, and this is no exception.

Adam pulls away from Tommy's mouth, and Tommy tries to chase him with his lips, but Adam just holds Tommy's wrists against the column more firmly. "Just. Stay there, okay?" Adam whispers, and Tommy barely has a moment to think _stay there for what_ before Adam is sliding to his knees and undoing Tommy's pants.

"Oh, fuck," he says, thunking his head against the column, hips pushing against Adam's hands as they work his pants and boxers down around his thighs, ass bare against the cold metal. And then Adam starts to lick and suck his balls, and he has to look down, squinting through the dark to see what he can of what Adam's doing.

It's not like Tommy's never seen someone give a blowjob before. Even beyond what he can remember of the first blowjob Adam gave him, details still fuzzy in his memory, David's older brother had owned an old porn DVD, and David and Isaac and Tommy had all watched that together when they were freshmen. And once his parents had given him their old desktop when they got a new computer, the world of internet porn was his oyster. He didn't really think that porn was true to life; he was pretty sure most girls didn't really look like that, and they seemed to respond really dramatically to things that didn't look to Tommy like they'd be all that fun. And blow jobs always just looked sort of weird — like, he'd figured they felt good, otherwise assholes wouldn't constantly bitch about their girlfriends not wanting to or whatever, but he never thought that watching someone give one was the turn-on.

That all goes out the window when he looks down and sees Adam's face as he takes Tommy's dick into his mouth, finally. His eyes are half-closed, lips stretched wide around the head of Tommy's cock, and he bobs up and down shallowly for a minute. Tommy can hear him working, can hear how wet Adam's mouth is, and he wants to bring his hands down to Adam's face so badly, wants to hold him as he goes all the way down on Tommy, but Adam asked him to keep his hands up and he's fucking trying. His arms ache already though, trembling as he works to hold them up there, and he ends up tipping his head back again, closing his eyes and gulping down breath as he gets closer and closer to coming, hips snapping forward of their own accord. He'd apologize, try to stop himself from — _Jesus_ — fucking Adam's mouth, but Adam's started making those noises again, little grunts and moans in time with Tommy's hips, and he can't stop, can't hold back a moment longer.

"Oh," he says, his eyes opening and looking up through the metal slats above as he comes hard, his wrists still pinned above his head by his own will. He shudders as Adam continues to suck gently through his orgasm, pulling off a little to swallow but then coming back, licking up the underside of his cock and then closing around the head again. He whines a little, finally getting out, "Adam," and he sighs when Adam pulls off finally, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and looking up at Tommy, eyes gleaming.

"You still have your hands up," he says, looking up above Tommy's head, and Tommy can feel his cheeks going hot as he flushes at Adam's words. "Hey, no, I like it, wouldn't have asked you to do it if I didn't." Adam stands and presses his body up against Tommy's.

"Just shut up," Tommy says, leaning up and kissing Adam, moaning when he tastes himself in Adam’s mouth. He lets his arms come down slowly, wrapping them around Adam's neck when it becomes clear that Adam's not going to stop kissing him or yell at him for bringing them down. From the way Adam kisses him hard, getting his hands on Tommy's bare ass and pulling Tommy up onto his tip-toes, Tommy's pretty sure he's cool with it.

He breaks away, twisting his head to the side as Adam follows him and kisses his cheek, trying to get Adam to turn around. Adam finally gets the picture and moves, leaning up against the column before pulling Tommy up against him between his legs and kissing him again. Tommy tries to pull back again, but Adam holds him firmly, only loosening his arms when Tommy starts to kneel down, letting gravity break Adam’s grip on him. He can feel Adam's hands dragging over his hips and sides and up his arms as Tommy moves down his body, and Tommy rushes to open Adam’s pants so that he can get his mouth on Adam's cock again.

Tommy still doesn't feel like he has much in the way of skills in this area, but at least it's familiar territory this time, the taste and feel of Adam's cock in his mouth welcome and known. He gets one hand around the base of Adam's dick, the other one wrapped around his balls, and Adam's hands are both around his biceps, holding him close to his body. Trying to relax, he gets as much of Adam into his mouth as he can actually take, not pushing, just sucking steadily while his other hand strokes along the shaft.

The wind picks up a bit, and Tommy shivers, his bare ass cold as he presses closer to Adam's legs. Adam moans when he tugs a little on his balls, and he tries it again, releasing them when he sucks particularly hard on one pass. When Adam's hands both clench down hard on Tommy's arms he's ready for it, pulling off a little so that he catches the come on his tongue and can swallow it down as quickly as possible. He keeps sucking even though he's pretty sure Adam's done; he likes the feel of Adam's cock in his mouth, not quite ready to let it go, and it makes the taste of come less sharp, more just an extension of the taste of Adam's skin.

When Adam starts pulling him up by his arms, Tommy resists a little at first but eventually relents when Adam says, "Tommy, Tommy, come on." He gets to his feet slowly, his knees damp and dirty from the ground, and he finally pulls up his boxers and jeans, not bothering to zip them when Adam wraps his arms around his waist and kisses him, slowly and thoroughly. Tommy lets his body rest up against Adam's, hanging onto Adam's shoulders as he kisses him back, head fuzzy and happy.

Adam finally pulls back a little, resting his forehead against Tommy's and bringing a hand up to stroke over Tommy's cheek. Tommy moves into it like a fucking cat or something, and when he opens his eyes Adam is watching him, eyes bright but with an expression that Tommy can't quite name, unfamiliar on Adam's face. He's about to ask him what's up when Adam pushes him away gently, doing up his fly and zipping his jacket closed. Tommy mirrors him, doing the bare minimum to restore himself to something resembling normality, and when he looks back up at Adam's face the strange look is gone, replaced by the smile Tommy knows so well.

"Come on, we're going to be super late for Isaac's party," Adam says, heading out from under the stands.

"Hey Adam," Tommy calls out, still standing next to the column that he's going to try very hard to not think of as _theirs_ from now on. Adam turns back to look. "Aren't you forgetting something?" he asks, twirling the beret on the fingers of his right hand as he walks out to where Adam had stopped.

"No, I've got everything," Adam says, smiling as he grabs the beret out of Tommy's hand, and they made their way back to the band room parking lot, stars shining down on them.

* * *

The following week passes quickly, the school buzzing with delirious joy about the Beavers' come-from-behind win and planning for the next game. Tommy's college applications are finally all done, and while his regional auditions are coming up, he can handle the scales and his audition piece in his sleep. The only thing there is to do is hang out with his friends after school like usual, and then every night, once Isaac or David drops him off, he locks himself in his room and jerks off frantically, like he never has before.

It isn't like Tommy hadn't thought about Adam while he jerked off before. And even now, it's not the only thing his brain is thinking about. Sometimes it's just him focusing on the feel of his hand moving over his skin, or he'll check out his various porn bookmarks (although he has to admit that the type of porn he's clicking through to is slightly different than it was even two months earlier). But after this past weekend Tommy's having a hard time thinking about anything else when he's in the privacy of his room, lights down low and music playing, a box of tissues next to his hip on the bed. He can't get the feel of Adam's hands off his skin, the look in his eyes when he pulled Tommy back up and held him after he came.

He thinks about other things, too — things they haven't even done ( _yet,_ his brain supplies hopefully, and if it's difficult to ignore that voice when he's walking down the halls of the school, fluorescent lighting burning a hole into his brain, it's practically impossible to dismiss it when his hand's around his dick, fingers tentatively pressing back behind his balls). He never really thought of himself as being someone who'd like being so much smaller, really feeling the strength and power in someone else's body, but he's clear on it now. His cock jerks in his hand when he thinks about Adam on top of him, moving between his legs, and he pushes his fingers back a little against his hole, sure that if they were Adam's they'd just slip right in, no problem, and with that thought on his mind he comes, shooting all over his stomach and hand.

Panting, he wipes himself clean with a couple of tissues and throws them in the general direction of the trashcan, not carrying when they land about three feet away. He knows he shouldn't be doing this, knows that it's not like that, that Adam, if anything, is just his _Gary_ or whatever, and he should be fucking grateful for the fact that when he goes off to college next year he'll have some idea of what he wants and how to fucking do it.

It's a cold comfort as he stares up at the ceiling, watching the moving shadows from the headlights of the passing cars and thinking about the way Adam tastes.

* * *

When it happens, he's as upset with himself for not realizing sooner as he is by the conversation itself, or so he tries to tell himself.

The second playoff game is a blowout from the start, Bellington up by three touchdowns after the first quarter thanks to an interception and a kickoff return. The entire crowd is loose and happy, none of the tense drama that made the last game so exciting and ultimately thrilling, and Tommy and the rest of the band are goofing off, playing as loudly as they can and yelling increasingly stupid chants of support to the team.

Tommy looks over at Adam after Isaac and David do some sort of interpretive dance-type thing, expecting to see him laughing and a little shocked that he didn't jump up there and join them. Adam doesn't look happy though; he looks lost in thought, brow furrowed.

"Dude, you okay?" Tommy asks, nudging his arm with his elbow.

Adam startles and then looks at him briefly before scrubbing over his face with his hand. "Yeah, no, I'm fine. Really," he adds when Tommy looks at him skeptically.

"Well, if you need to like talk to someone or whatever, we could go for a walk. They're not gonna notice us gone now," Tommy says, not realizing how that sounds until Adam looks back at him, face serious. Tommy flushes but holds his gaze, and after a moment Adam nods and stands up.

"Lead the way," he says.

They wander out back behind the high school, walking over the soccer and lacrosse fields and trying to avoid all of the goose shit that litters the grounds, the sounds of the game getting fainter and further away. Adam's silent the whole time, and Tommy digs his hands into the pockets of the jacket he's wearing over his uniform, colder than the weather can really account for even with the recent cold snap.

Finally, Adam stops, and Tommy stills next to him, waiting.

"Look," Adam starts, and then he closes his mouth and pulls gently on the lobe of his ear while Tommy watches him. "There's no smooth way of saying this, but I don't think we should fool around any more." Tommy suddenly can't feel anything at all, his body disconnected from his feet and on a different planet entirely from his head. He nods as Adam says, "I mean, like you said, it wasn't a big thing, and I just think—"

"Yeah, sure," Tommy says, unwilling to hear whatever it is that Adam has to say. "Nothing to it, right?" He can hear Adam's feet crunching in the frozen grass as he paces, unable to bring his eyes up from his shoes yet.

"Right," Adam says finally. "I mean, we were just two friends messing around a bit." There's an odd note in Adam's voice that Tommy can't puzzle out, and his stomach churns at the possibility that there's someone else, that Adam's finally found someone out here that he'd actually like to _date,_ or maybe his ex-boyfriend is moving out here, who the fuck knows. He can't bear to hear about it if that's the case.

He makes himself look up at Adam and smiles a little. "Right, dude," he says, and he's proud of the way his voice doesn't crack and the tentative smile that Adam gives him in return. He's not going to fuck up their friendship. "We should head back to the stands, gotta see just how badly we’re going to crush them," he says, and Adam nods uncertainly but starts walking when Tommy turns back.

Something occurs to him while they're heading back, and he glances at Adam, who's staring straight ahead. "Was that all you needed to talk about?" Tommy asks, and Adam flinches slightly but nods. Okay then. He's not going to push. He just wants to get back to the stands, to the people and the distractions where he can pretend more convincingly that his heart didn't just get smashed to a pulp.

* * *

Tommy feels like he goes through the next week in a fog. He can function well enough — he answers questions in his classes, practices his trumpet the 90 minutes he does most nights, laughs when David makes the same jokes he always does. That's not the hard part. The hard part, the part he can't figure out how people survive, is trying to act normal in front of Adam, and also in front of Isaac, because that fucker is too observant for his own good. Tommy tries not hanging out in the band room after school on Monday and Tuesday, heading out as soon as he grabs his stuff from his cubby, waving to the group as he books it out the door.

This turns out to be a terrible method of avoiding notice, because there's nothing that screams 'something is up' like a change in routine. Tommy knows he fucked up bad when David corners him Wednesday morning in the hall outside of Tommy's Spanish class.

"Hey, man, everything okay at home?" David asks, jumping right in.

"Yeah, it's cool," Tommy says, mentally berating himself for being a complete fucking moron. If David's bringing it up, he can only imagine how this is going to go with Isaac.

"Okay, good. Just. You haven't been hanging out with everyone the way you usually do, so," David says.

"I've just been practicing more at home, you know, regional auditions are coming up soon," Tommy says, hoping against hope that music can bail him out once again in his life.

"Oh, right! Well, you're pretty much a sure thing, though, right? I mean, you've made it for two years running, they're not going to reject you this time or something," David says, smiling a little, clearly relieved.

Tommy shakes his head. "That's not really how it works. You have to audition all over again every year — how you did last year doesn't make a difference at all."

"Wow," David says. "Well, even so, man, just locking yourself away isn't going to help if you're like too stressed out to play because you miss your friends."

Tommy smiles a little, against his will. "You missing me, Immerman, is that what this is all about?"

David shoves his shoulder as they walk through the halls together. "'Yeah, Ratliff, because when you're not there I end up trying to settle things between Isaac and Sophie by myself, or Allison and Adam drag me into a conversation about her tragic summer love. You've got to save me from my fate, dude," he says, slinging an arm around Tommy's shoulders and sticking his tongue out at a freshman who's looking at them weird.

Tommy tries not to tense up when David says Adam's name, hoping that he doesn't notice. He's lucky David’s attention to things beyond Liz’s rack only tends to reach so far.

* * *

When he enters the band room Wednesday afternoon after classes let out, he grins and waves as he sees the gang in the usual corner, up on the risers where the trombone players and other members of the brass section sit during practice. He can do this, he can hang out and be normal, be the same — because it _is_ the same, he reminds himself. He and Adam are still friends, just like they always were. That's the same.

He catches Adam's eye as he sits down. _Tommy, you're a fucking pathetic-ass liar,_ he thinks.

He can make it through the afternoon of gossip and communal homework well enough, he supposes. He can't really claim to be having fun in the same way he did last Wednesday, or the one before, but the first day is always going to be the worst. He's just got to get used to it.

"Well, I think I'm gonna head out, my mom's been on my case to be home more, so I gotta go. See you guys later," Adam says suddenly, standing up and getting his stuff together. It's not even 3:30. Tommy stares at him, feeling guilty and tense and desperate, just _wanting,_ more than anything — wanting to stand up and say _I'll get a ride then,_ or _maybe we could go hang out at your house,_ or _why don't you want to date me?_ He's certain that last thought is all over his face, must be why Adam can't be around him right now, and his stomach clenches at the thought that he's cutting Adam off from all of his friends, just a couple of months after he made them.

Before he can figure out how to fix this, how he can go back in time and be cooler and better at the whole hooking-up thing, or fuck, just not watch fucking _Highlander_ with Adam in the first place, Adam's already gone, and Tommy didn't even say bye. He tries to avoid David's curious looks and Isaac and Sophie's knowing ones, and he abruptly can't decide which is worse, the patronizing concern of his asshole friends who didn't believe him when he said he knew the score with Adam, or David for not even fucking knowing why he wants to wear all black and paint his nails and wear eyeliner for way more emo reasons than he ever has in the past.

He survives another forty-five minutes of forced socialization, laughing at Isaac and Sophie's fights in all the right places and getting through his physics homework, so it's not a complete waste. By the time he gets home, though, it's all he can do to get himself onto his bed and turn up Marilyn Manson as loud as it'll go.

  
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By the time Friday night comes around, Tommy thinks he's doing better. He's more numb than anything else at this point, but he's gotten better at participating in conversations that happen to include Adam, and he's never been able to dodge Isaac this well in his life. To be fair, it's not like there had been many occasions in the past when he tried this hard.

The state championship is held at one of the big university stadiums about a twenty minute drive away. The bus ride over there is insanity like Tommy's never seen it, everyone talking and predicting and taunting, the nerves of the big game and the last halftime show spilling over into aggression and hysteria.

Normally Tommy would attempt to join in and contribute the occasional comment to the mayhem, but today he just uses it as an excuse to hide. He slouches back in his seat, half-listening to David calling out to Liz across the bus but mostly just letting the din float through his head, muting the thoughts of regret and confusion and anger that are so close to the surface.

When they pull into the university parking lot near the field, it really hits how much bigger this game is than any other of the year, and how much he just doesn't care at all. He wishes he could be excited to play in a stadium like this, wants to not be _that guy,_ the dude who gets dumped and falls apart. He shouldn’t even feel this way, he didn’t get dumped, not really — generally there needs to have been an actual relationship for that to happen. He doesn't know how he's supposed to not feel this way though. It's not something that really comes with an instruction manual.

The band all scrambles off the bus, people pushing and nudging to get free and down to the stands. The setup is a little different for such a big game — rather than have one of the bands do a show before the game starts and the other perform during halftime, both bands are performing at the half. Caldwell is going first; Tommy vaguely remembers hearing about their band, it's supposed to be pretty good. He tells himself it'll be fun to watch them and almost convinces himself.

During the first half, Tommy tries to keep his focus on the game and Mr. Pittman, responding instantly to the calls for "Land of a Thousand Dances" and "The Hey Song", but his eyes keep drifting over to Adam unconsciously. He catches himself staring more than once, and while he's pretty sure Adam hasn't noticed — he's barely looked up at all, in fact — he sees Isaac watching him when he pulls his gaze away from Adam one time.

 _Fuck,_ Tommy thinks. That's not going to be fun.

He knows Isaac is going to try to talk to him eventually, but he's not expecting Isaac to grab his arm and pull him aside as the band comes down out of the stands midway though the second quarter to get ready for the show. He marches them off until they're about fifteen feet away from the rest of the group walking over to the prep area.

"Isaac, what the fuck?" Tommy says, and Isaac swings him around and crosses his arms.

"No, Tommy, that's _my_ fucking question. What the hell is going on with you? And if you tell me nothing, so help me but I will not be responsible for my actions," Isaac says.

Tommy rolls his eyes. "Christ, Isaac, could you be any more dramatic?"

Isaac glares at him. "Pot, meet the motherfucking kettle, given that you've been in fucking mourning or some shit for a _week._ Just. Come on, Tommy. You're not even having a good time at our last high school game ever. Tell me what's going on," he says.

Tommy knew he wouldn't be able to keep stonewalling Isaac forever, but Christ does he not want to get into it here. "It's just what I told you about, dude. I was right." The words stick in his throat.

"Right about what?" Isaac asks, and Tommy almost loses it right there, the faint recollection that there are people nearby the only thing preventing him from like crying or yelling or hitting Isaac in the face for asking him about this now, for fuck's sake.

"Right about Adam, okay? He doesn't want to anymore, he's done," Tommy says almost angrily.

"Why?" Isaac asks. "I mean. What did he say exactly?"

"Holy shit, dude, I'm not going to give you a fucking play-by-play of how it went down, okay? He just wanted to stop, I said okay, case closed," Tommy says, his anger dissipating almost as fast as it came on, a bone deep weariness replacing it.

"Did you tell him how you feel?" Isaac asks, and suddenly the anger is back, red and full and bursting at the seams.

"What the fuck was I supposed to say, Isaac? 'No, Adam, I want to keep messing around because actually I'm totally fucking gone over you and want to be your boyfriend?' Is that how it was supposed to go?" Tommy says, and it's only when he sees the look on Isaac's face that he realizes just how loud he's gotten. When he hears the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him, he closes his eyes and just prays to some nonexistent deity that it's only a fucking meathead jock who'll decide to shove him into a locker and call him 'faggot' for the next five months.

"Uh, Mr. P asked me to come back and get you guys," Adam says, and Tommy curses his entire life.

"Right, okay, I'm going to go catch up with them and I'll let them know you guys will be there in a minute," Isaac says, and Tommy opens his eyes to see his best friend fucking running away and leaving him alone with Adam. He decides he needs to curse Isaac's life too at this point.

"Tommy." Adam's voice is quiet and hesitant, so unlike his normal confident tone, and Tommy almost decides that running for it is the best plan before realizing that Adam would probably chase him down so that he could apologize and try to make Tommy feel better. He figures it's better to just have his pride ripped out right now rather than get all sweaty and out of breath and _then_ be humiliated, so he takes a deep breath and turns around.

When he looks up at Adam, his breath catches at the look on his face.

"Um. I swear to god I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, Tommy, I really was sent here by Mr. Pittman, but, I mean. You want to be my boyfriend?" Adam asks, and Tommy can only nod, eyes caught in the intensity of Adam's gaze. "Really?" he asks again, and Tommy tries to get his mouth to work.

"Yeah, um, I do. But I thought that wasn't what you wanted?" he asks, confused again and suddenly sure that this is just the delayed humiliation one-two punch or something.

"Wasn't what—Tommy, why would I think you would want to date me? You're straight," Adam says.

"Am not," Tommy says dumbly.

"Yeah, I'm getting that _now,_ I just, I spent two months getting yelled at by Brad over IM for messing around with a straight dude and him telling me that I was getting exactly what I deserved and that I needed to break it off," Adam says, and all of a sudden Tommy is angry again.

"Wait a minute, then why the fuck did you tell me you wanted to stop? I've been fucking miserable for a week, you asshole," he says, his anger losing steam as his body starts to get that maybe he isn't the unluckiest dude in the world after all.

"Tommy, do you have any idea how much it fucking sucks to mess around with the guy you're in love with when he’s never going to feel the same way about you?" Adam asks, hands waving wildly through the air.

"I really, really do," Tommy says, his heart about to explode out of his chest at the way Adam stills at his words. "Like. I probably would have done the same thing, if I had been smart enough to."

"Dumb enough, you mean," Adam says, a smile about to break through on his face.

"Same difference," Tommy says, face mirroring Adam's as his hands twitch forward towards Adam, and he wishes that they were in a movie, wishes that he could actually just reach up and grab Adam's face and kiss him, sports fans be damned. From the look on Adam's face, the same thought is crossing his mind.

Luckily for both of them, at that moment Isaac comes running back. "Okay, seriously, I gave you guys as much time as I could, but Mr. Pittman needs his fucking first trumpet and cymbals player up there now, okay, so hurry it the fuck up," and they all run to join the band for the final halftime show of the year.

* * *

The halftime show is a total blur for Tommy, sense memory taking over when his brain is utterly incapable of thinking about anything other than the fact that _holy shit_ he's pretty sure Adam's his boyfriend now, and the joy and relief is enough to sustain him through it. He tries to take in the entire stadium, tries to appreciate this first of many last moments of his senior year, tries to focus on his friends and Mr. Pittman, but the only word his brain can seem to remember is _Adam._

* * *

By the time they get back to their seats for the second half, Tommy is calm enough to actually enjoy his last game in the stands as a member of the Bellington High Marching Band. He can see Isaac watching him, a small smile on his face, and David starts bugging him after every play, making sure that Tommy is fully informed about the progress of the game. He's glad that he's finally able to just be normal again.

Well, as normal as he can be when all he can think about is when he's going to get to kiss Adam again.

Even that's not that different from how the last four or five games were, if he's honest with himself, and he figures at this point he actually can be. So he can sit with the low-grade want that's curling up through him and still focus on being with his friends, getting ready to play the school fight song for the hundred millionth time in his high school career.

Caldwell comes back in the third quarter, tying up the score and making everyone tense, but Bellington regroups in the fourth quarter and puts together a scoring drive that even Tommy can tell is pretty impressive, to pull ahead by a touchdown with 4 minutes to go. When the Caldwell quarterback throws a pick with a minute thirty left to play, the Bellington half of the stands explodes, everyone cheering and yelling and Mr. Pittman just calling out pep song after pep song to close out the game, and when their quarterback takes a knee for the last time and the entire football team runs out onto the field to celebrate together, Tommy thinks that everyone around him must feel the way he has since halftime.

* * *

The bus ride back to the school is even more raucous than it was out there, with someone blasting a stereo in the back and everyone singing along. Tommy doesn't actually think that the band really made a difference in how the team did, but he has to admit that it was exciting this year in a way it wasn't in the past, and it's really easy to feel like this win was their victory together.

Adam's pressed up close to him, arm on top of the seat over Tommy's shoulders, and he has to make himself look away from Adam's face at times before he outs himself in a way he's not really sure that he's ready for. The closer they get to home the more he thinks about what it'll actually mean, to really date Adam rather than just fool around with him in the shadows. Isaac knows, obviously, and he's pretty sure from the looks she's giving him that Sophie does too, and David will claim that he's known for ages once someone tells him even while he badgers Isaac to find out how long he's known.

But the school's a lot bigger than that, and while he's not really worried about how the rest of his band friends are going to respond — he's almost positive that Adam's acceptance isn't just due to the fact that he's pretty much impossible to dislike — he doesn't even know how to start the conversation he should probably have with his parents pretty soon.

Adam's arm brushes against the top of Tommy's shoulders as his mind tumbles ahead of him, and when he looks at Adam he suddenly isn't worried anymore. They'll figure it out.

* * *

When they get back to the band room, there are a million plans being made at once — a party at Billy Moore's house, a trip down to the Starlight Diner, and talk of some sort of gathering over on the football field, which Tommy doesn't get at all but he's long since given up on questioning the ideas of sophomores.

"Tommy, what are you game for?" David asks, arm slung around Liz's shoulders. She looks happy and a little smug, and Tommy thinks the game must have gone well for David too.

"Uh, I'm not really sure," Tommy says, glancing at Adam involuntarily. "I think maybe I'm just going to take it easy tonight, save it for the formal tomorrow night, you know?"

Isaac smirks at him, and even Allison looks gleeful. Tommy's not sure that this scrutiny is actually better than it would be if he had just said, "Adam and I need to go off by ourselves so that I can kiss him and make him come, preferably more than once."

Actually, he's pretty sure that would be worse.

"Yeah, I'm just heading home too, but we're all still meeting at Isaac's tomorrow night, right? 6:30?" Adam asks, firmly taking control of the situation.

"You got it," Isaac says. "We'll see you both there?" he asks, emphasizing the _both_ just enough for Tommy to blush slightly.

"Count on it," Adam says as he throws his coat on. "Tommy, you want a ride?" he asks casually, ignoring the giggle that escapes from Allison's mouth even as she tries to hide her smile behind her hand.

"Yeah, um. That'd be great," Tommy says. He waves goodbye to his friends, trying not to look too obviously overwhelmed and excited, and he follows Adam out to his car. They get in, Adam quickly turning on the engine and pulling out of the spot, and it's not until they leave the grounds of the high school that Tommy realizes something.

"So, where _are_ we going, anyway?" he asks, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach.

"Um, I was thinking we actually could just go back to my house, if you want," Adam says, glancing over at him quickly. "I mean. My mom's visiting her sister up in Connecticut this weekend, and Neil's over at a friend's house for a weekend-long gaming thing, so." He trails off as he puts his right hand on Tommy's thigh, squeezing lightly.

"Yeah, that uh. That works," Tommy says, putting his hand over Adam's and squeezing back.

They don't talk for the rest of the way to Adam's house, and by the time they pull into the driveway Tommy is so ready for something to happen, anything at all, he doesn't even know how to ask for it. But Adam just pulls his hand away and gets out of the car, heading up to the door without waiting for Tommy. He goes up the walkway after Adam, getting there just as he unlocks the door and pushes it open, and when he follows Adam through all he can think is _finally_ when Adam turns around and grabs him, kissing him and pushing him up against the door as they close it.

He groans, overwhelmed with how much he had missed the feel of Adam's lips and the taste of his mouth, trying to get as much of him as he can. The house is still dark, the only light bleeding in from the street lamps, and Tommy loses himself in the feeling of Adam's body pressing him up against the door. He almost doesn't know what to do with the intensity of it, wanting everything at once, and it scares him for a moment.

Pulling away, he tries to focus on Adam through the darkness, holding his face between his palms. "This is really what you want, right? Like, you're not just trying to be my Gary or whatever," he says, suddenly needing to hear it.

Adam swallows and nods, face brushing against Tommy's hands. "Trust me, I've wanted this for months, just didn't think I could really have it," he says, hands firm on Tommy's lower back. "Like, it's the worst play in the book, if you're gay, falling for one of your straight friends, and I knew you seemed to like getting off with me, but I just thought that was because I was good at it."

Tommy shakes his head. "Adam, most straight dudes don't just get off with their male friends. At least, not that I know of," he amends, and then the image of Isaac and David like _exploring their sexuality_ runs through his mind and he shudders. "Really. Not the normal scene, even for band geeks," he says, getting his hands up in Adam's hair.

"Okay, well I stand corrected then," Adam says, walking backwards and pulling Tommy off the door with him. "So can we go to my room now, or do we still need to talk more?" he asks, almost stumbling backwards when Tommy immediately starts pushing forward.

"It is totally time for your room, no problem for me," he says, and they manage to make it up the stairs and down the hall to Adam's room without knocking each other over or breaking anything.

Adam flips on the light and shuts the door, which Tommy appreciates even though he knows no one is supposed to be home — it would only take one major fight at a D&D weekend for Neil to suddenly turn up back here, cranky and pouting and looking for an argument. Adam kisses him again, slow and thorough, totally different from the crazy, frantic making out in the hall. Tommy feels like he's being unmade from the inside out, like his entire body is tuned to what Adam wants, and when Adam pushes him down onto the bed gently he goes willingly, letting his body sprawl out.

Adam feels up his thighs and then over his hips, getting his hand under Tommy's shirt. "I never got to really look at you before, always too afraid you'd notice and freak out or something.” He runs his fingers all over Tommy's stomach before lifting his shirt higher until it’s above his nipples. "Never got to do this either," he says as he leans down and takes Tommy's left nipple into his mouth.

Tommy groans as he arches his chest against Adam's mouth, shocked at just how much better Adam's mouth feels on his nipples than his own fingers ever did. He brings his hands up and works them under Adam's shirt until he's on skin, feeling over the broad expanse of Adam's back as he sucks and then bites Tommy's nipple. He's breathing fast already, cock pushing up against the fly of his jeans, and suddenly he's tugging on Adam's shirt, pulling Adam's mouth off his nipple so that he can get it off him completely.

Adam looks down at him, mouth wet and his bright blue eyes focused intently on Tommy’s face. "You too," he says, gesturing at Tommy's t-shirt, and Tommy sits up enough to get it up over his head. As soon as he's free of it Adam pulls him in, kissing him again and holding him right up against his chest, and Tommy can barely breathe for how it makes him feel, all that skin up against him. It makes him shudder and want and _need_ more, and he makes himself pull away from Adam, gasping as Adam's hands move down over his hips.

"I want you to fuck me," Tommy says before he can chicken out.

Adam stops messing with Tommy's fly and looks up at him. "Tommy—"

"You're a top, right?" Tommy interrupts, taking over for Adam and working his jeans off his legs, adjusting his hard dick in his boxers so that it's flat up against his stomach.

Adam stares at him. "Yeah, um. Pretty much."

"Awesome. Because seriously, it's not that the blow jobs and the hand jobs and everything aren't great, they are, but I just. I really want to have sex with you," Tommy says, flipping over onto his stomach, trying to force his body to relax. He tries not to freak out when Adam doesn't say anything or move or touch him for what feels like forever, but finally he feels Adam's hand stroking down his back, stopping just above his ass before moving back up. Tommy slowly relaxes into his touch, but—

"You've done this before though, right?" Tommy can't keep from asking.

Adam's hand stills on Tommy's back. "Yeah, I have. And Tommy, we really don't have to do this if you don't want to. I know it's a big deal—"

Tommy shifts over onto his back and looks up at Adam. "Adam, I'm an eighteen year old virgin who's apparently, like, had a _boyfriend_ I didn't even know about for fucking months. I jerk off thinking about this every fucking night. I am so ready, I promise you."

Adam's eyes go dark. "You jerk off thinking about me?"

Tommy flushes, just barely resisting the urge to look away from Adam but somehow managing to keep eye contact. Sometimes the fact that Adam makes him feel like he can say anything is really fucking embarrassing. "Of course, dude. We've been messing around since October, what else am I going to think about?"

Adam has his hand low on Tommy's stomach, just above the waist of his boxer shorts, and he's brushing his fingertips over Tommy's skin, slow and steady. Tommy's whole body feels electrified, caught in the intensity of Adam's focus and his hand. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe steady, not wanting Adam to see just how much of an impact his fucking fingertips are having on him, Jesus, but—

"Tell me?" Adam says.

Tommy blinks up at him. "What?" he asks.

Adam's hand stills for a moment, but then it picks up again, just sliding across Tommy's stomach. "Tell me what you think about? Please. I'd like to know." His eyes are serious, steady on Tommy's face, and Tommy finds himself nodding.

Because that's the thing that Tommy loves about Adam, that makes him trust completely that this isn't a set-up and that he's not going to laugh at Tommy or make fun of him, no matter what he says. Adam would never lie to him. He's asking for something, and Tommy knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he really does just want to know.

The fact that Adam is looking at him like it's taking every ounce of willpower he has not to jump him right now doesn't hurt either.

Tommy closes his eyes in the face of that, because he's not sure he's going to be able to make himself say it if he can see Adam there. "I think about your hands a lot, how they feel on my skin. The way you touch me.” He forces himself to just say it. “But mostly I think about what it would be like if you fucked me." He swallows and makes himself continue. "And like, how you'd get me ready, with, you know. Your fingers."

"Did you try it on yourself?" Adam asks, voice a little lower than usual. Tommy nods his head, eyes still tightly shut.

"A little. I mean, I don't know if I was doing it right? I just tried a little in the shower, with, um, my mom's conditioner, so." Tommy opens his eyes when Adam's hand stills on his stomach, fingers caught under the waistband of his boxers. Adam is breathing fast, face flushed (which Tommy knows he hates, but he kind of likes it), and Tommy is really ready to get the show portion of this show-and-tell on the road. He reaches up to Adam's face and pulls him down for a kiss.

Adam responds instantly, taking control of the kiss with his tongue and sliding his hand under Tommy's boxers, touching his dick. Tommy pushes up into his hands, holding Adam's face and shuddering when Adam's hand keeps going, brushing over his balls so his finger presses on the skin just behind them. Tommy gets his boxers off, pushing them down his legs and kicking them across the room. He spreads his legs, heart pumping wildly and looking up at Adam, who had pulled away a little when Tommy started to move.

"No no, don't stop, I'm good," Tommy says, stopping when Adam moves his finger back a little further, just rubbing slowly over his hole. "Don't. Don't you want some lube?" Tommy asks, fingers clenching at the sheets.

"Not yet. I'm just trying to get you used to feeling my fingers there first," Adam says, leaning down to kiss Tommy again. The distraction works; Tommy kisses him back desperately, almost frantically. Telling Adam about what he thinks about when he jerks off just made him _want_ even more, and Adam's actually here and, like, going to do this with him again even, and when Adam pulls away, he makes a sound of protest without even meaning to.

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere," Adam says, slightly breathless, and the fact that Tommy can see what this is doing to Adam calms him down a little as he watches Adam get his jeans and briefs off before grabbing the lube. He pops opens the lid and squirts some over his fingers, rubbing it in a bit and smearing it around, and then he smiles down at Tommy. "Just try to relax, baby," he says as he leans down and takes Tommy's cock in his mouth, fingers pressing against his hole.

"Oh fuck," Tommy says, arching up as much as he can with Adam holding his hip down with the hand that's not between his legs, Jesus Christ. Adam works him over patiently, starting off by licking and sucking the head of his dick before sinking down a little further. Tommy gets his hands in Adam's hair, and he tries not to whimper when Adam swirls his tongue around the crown before bobbing back down and taking most of him in.

And it's not that Tommy doesn't notice that Adam's pressing the first finger inside him, it's a finger up his ass, of course he fucking notices, but given what Adam's doing with his mouth it seems just fine. Adam pulls off his dick a little, one hand stroking, and he says, "I know it'll probably sound weird, but like, bear down on my finger, it'll make it easier," and then he puts his mouth back on Tommy's dick and Tommy is totally game for doing whatever he recommends, seriously. He pushes against Adam's finger and feels it slide in further, Adam keeping it still while he bobs up and down over Tommy's dick.

Tommy pants up at the ceiling, trying to figure out what his body thinks about everything that's going on. He thinks he's pretty cool with it, and then Adam adds another finger against his hole and presses in, and _fuck._ That's a lot. He tenses up without meaning to, and Adam pulls off his cock and looks up at him, letting go of his dick to pet over his hip.

"You okay?" Adam asks.

Tommy nods, lifting his hand up to Adam's face, and Adam turns into it and kisses his palm. "Yeah. It's just a lot, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Adam says. He frowns a little. "It doesn't hurt though, right? It's just weird?"

Tommy makes the a-ok sign with his free hand. "Yeah, just like give me a minute, okay?"

Adam kisses his palm again. "Sure thing. Try to breathe, okay? Also, moving will probably help, in a bit."

Tommy isn't sure how moving is supposed to help, although he does get that sex sort of like demands that something is going to be moving in and out of his ass. He didn't end up with two fingers up his ass without trusting that Adam knows what he's talking about though, so he tries to breathe and relax and get back to being Tommy, the chill guy who's cool. Not this sweating, trembling dork who feels like this entire concept must just be a joke that gay guys have been pulling on the rest of the world for fucking years.

He finally feels like he's got it under control again, like his body has adjusted or whatever, and he nods at Adam. He smiles back and leans over to lick over Tommy's dick, which had softened a bit while Tommy was like freaking out over his virgin ass not being down for this after all, but it seems more than happy to perk back up now that Adam's mouth is back on it, and Tommy closes his eyes and is trying to focus on the feel of Adam's tongue when suddenly Adam's fingers move in a little further and—

" _Oh,_ " Tommy says, pushing back hard against Adam's fingers. "Holy fuck, that's. What," he pants, feeling like something is sparking inside of him and like thrumming into his dick, pulsing and intense and perfect and he takes it back, clearly the prank gay guys have been playing on the world is not telling _everyone_ that sex is really all about the ass. Adam is still sucking on his dick while his fingers, like, tap up inside of him or something, and suddenly Tommy knows that if Adam doesn't stop all that right now he's going to come before he can even get Adam's dick inside him.

He pushes at Adam's shoulder weakly, and Adam responds instantly. "Everything okay?" he asks, smirking a little.

"Fuck you, dude, I'm going to come if you don't stop that," Tommy says, groaning and arching his back when Adam presses in further and then starts to fuck in and out of him with his fingers.

Now that Adam's mouth and hand aren't on his cock, Tommy doesn't feel like he's on a hair-trigger anymore, but _fuck,_ Adam's fingers thrusting in and out of him make him feel good in a way he doesn't even have words for. It's like he's turned on throughout his entire body, not just his dick, and it's starting on the inside and radiating out. It's fucking _crazy._

He lifts up his head a bit and looks down at Adam, who's stroking his stomach with the flat of his hand and watching his face. "Adam, I think I'm good. You know," he gets out, grabbing Adam's bicep and arching his back when Adam changes the angle or something and manages to make it even better.

But Adam shakes his head, and Tommy can feel another finger circling his hole. "I want to get at least another finger in you first. I'm pretty big—"

"Yeah, I kind of noticed," Tommy says, going for a half-smile.

Adam smiles back at him. "Yeah, and it's gonna be a lot. So the more we do this, the easier it's going to be," he says, slowly pushing in the third finger.

Tommy grabs his dick with his hand, just stroking over the head a little as he tries to breathe deep, Adam's hand rising and falling with his stomach. Adam was right, even the third finger is a lot more, and he can take it, no problem, but this is definitely the part that his imagination couldn’t come up with, the way it takes him over and makes focusing on anything else impossible.

And so he just breathes, gripping his dick like he always does so one part of his body feels something familiar, and gradually his body gets used to it again, at least until Adam starts thrusting in and out of him shallowly, just working his fingers a little deeper each time, and then it’s like Tommy’s body finally _gets_ it or something, because he’s relaxing into it and pushing up with his hips against Adam’s fingers, and he has to grab the base of his dick because fuck, that’s intense, and he can’t even tell how close he is to coming at this point, which hasn’t happened to Tommy since he started jerking off when he was eleven. He always knows how close he is, he’s a fucking expert at his own orgasms; it’s like his main pastime after playing music. This shit is _weird._

He lets go of his dick to grab Adam’s wrist, stopping the motion, and Adam’s eyes immediately snap away from where they’re focused between Tommy’s legs (which Tommy is determined to not be embarrassed about, really) and land on Tommy’s face. He looks concerned, at first, but whatever he sees in Tommy’s eyes reassures him, because he smiles and pets over Tommy’s stomach.

“Ready, baby?” he asks, pressing in one last time and then pulling his fingers out slowly, twisting his hand as it comes free. Tommy isn’t sure exactly when he started to love being called ‘baby’, but apparently now he does. He nods and starts to roll over onto his stomach until Adam’s hand on Tommy’s hip stops him.

“You don’t have to be on your front, if you don’t want,” Adam says, his eyebrows drawn together a little. “I mean. Dudes can do it face to face and all.”

Tommy almost wants to roll his eyes at him a little. He’s not a complete moron, he’s just a virgin, for fuck’s sake. “I know, man. But isn’t it easier this way? Like, to get the right angle or whatever?” he asks, handwaving a bit.

“Yeah, I just didn’t want you to think we had to, you know?” Adam says, holding Tommy’s hip a little harder.

Tommy sits up and kisses Adam, getting his hands up around his face and staying close when he pulls away from the kiss. “I promise that the next time we do it I’ll be on my back the whole time so you can gaze soulfully into my eyes, okay?” he says, grinning when Adam huffs.

“Jesus, a guy tries to be considerate, and this is the thanks I get. Roll on over then,” Adam says, pushing at Tommy’s hips until he lands on his stomach. He moves to get up on his hands and knees, but Adam pushes his shoulders back down gently. “Just stay on your belly and, like, tilt your ass up. Getting on your elbows will help a little, too.”

Tommy does what he says, spreading his legs further when he feels the sheets rustle as Adam gets between them. He looks back behind him to watch Adam roll on the condom, slicking it up, and then Adam braces himself up over Tommy’s back, one hand rubbing over Tommy’s hole with more lube before lining up.

Kissing Tommy once, Adam tucks his face next to Tommy’s and starts to press in. “Just try to breathe, okay? And tell me if it ever hurts — pressure’s fine, but if you’re in pain I need to know,” he says, pushing forward and pulling Tommy’s ass open with one big palm. Tommy nods back, just trying to hold on as the blunt head of Adam’s dick pops through the firm muscle, causing him to gasp and drop his head down.

“You okay?” Adam murmurs, bring his free hand up to stroke over Tommy’s back, and Tommy nods again, not trusting his voice to work. It’s just totally different than fingers, is the thing — it’s larger, sure, but it’s also just, like, a completely new feeling, pressing inside of him in all directions, and holy fuck he’s having sex and he’s not even sure if he can take all of Adam, seriously, and—

“Hey, baby, breathe,” Adam says, kissing over Tommy’s shoulders and up his neck. “I’m just going to stay still for a bit, let you get used to it, okay?”

Tommy feels like he should say something this time, let Adam know that he’s okay, but what comes out is, “Adam, I don’t know if I can do this.”

Adam immediately says, “If you say stop, we’ll stop, Tommy. But you’re almost there, and I promise if you give it a minute it’ll feel better. Are you in pain?”

He’s not; he just feels stretched in a way that he never has before, and his dick isn’t sure what the fuck this has to do with its usual good times, but he trusts Adam. He twists his head back for Adam to kiss him again, and he tries to just focus on that, the familiar feel of Adam’s tongue on his lips and in his mouth, and suddenly he can feel Adam’s hips right up against his ass, and he knows Adam’s all the way in.

Adam doesn’t move yet though; he just keeps kissing Tommy, running his free hand over Tommy’s chest and somehow pulling them closer together. Adam’s bracing himself up over Tommy with one forearm against the bed right under Tommy’s armpit, his chest up against Tommy’s back but somehow not crushing him, and Tommy feels totally surrounded by Adam, caught and protected as he kisses him back, opening his mouth for Adam’s tongue.

Tommy starts to wriggle around a little bit, trying to get his body used to having a dick inside it, and when that doesn’t really work, he, like, clenches down on Adam, which causes both his ass to relax a bit and Adam to groan loudly into his mouth and pull back and press forward a little, making Tommy gasp.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, Tommy,” Adam mumbles against his lips, and Tommy shakes his head, beginning to think he’s getting the appeal of this after all.

“No no, I think I’m good, seriously,” Tommy says, dropping his head down a little and shuffling his legs out a little more. “Try that again?” he asks, and when Adam does, pulling his hips back and pushing forward again, the smooth drag inside Tommy’s body unlike anything he’s ever felt before. “Oh, god,” he says involuntarily, wishing that he could somehow cover his mouth without Adam noticing because he’s pretty sure he’s about to get fucking loud.

Luckily Adam seems to be feeling something similar, because he’s talking over Tommy as he thrusts in and out, starting out slow but getting harder and faster. “Jesus, Tommy, you feel so fucking good, baby,” he says, pushing Tommy’s chest closer to the bed and wrapping his hands around Tommy’s shoulders for leverage as he fucks into him. “Just, I love being inside you, god, you’re so fucking tight around me,” he babbles into Tommy’s shoulder.

Tommy just tries to hold on, completely overwhelmed by the force of Adam’s thrusts. The stimulation is almost too much, too constant for him to get a handle on; he’s pretty sure he could come from this, but he can’t figure out how to focus on it, and so he doesn’t even try, just tilts his head to the side for Adam to kiss and bite and lick along his neck as he pants into Tommy’s skin.

“You okay, baby?” Adam asks, and Tommy nods back, struggling to say something back that’s not just a string of incomprehensible vowels.

“Yeah, Adam, I’m good, promise,” he finally gets out before moaning, “oh _fuck,_ ” when Adam thrusts particularly hard one time, and when Adam pulls back Tommy pushes his ass up when he fucks him into the mattress again, causing Adam to shudder.

“Oh, god, yeah, push back at me like that baby, just perfect, fuck,” Adam says, gasping against Tommy’s ear, his rhythm starting to break down a little, and Tommy has just enough time to think _he’s gonna come_ before he can actually _feel_ Adam come inside him, Christ, Adam’s dick jumping and pulsing as he continues to thrust into Tommy before stilling.

Tommy pants, trying to synch his breathing to Adam’s and feeling Adam’s heartbeat against his back as it starts to slow down gradually. Tommy’s still hard, his body still trying to process exactly what the fuck that just was, but he waits for Adam, who’s wrapped his arms all the way around Tommy’s chest and is clutching him tightly, face pressed right up against Tommy’s.

Finally, Adam brushes a kiss on Tommy’s cheek before he starts to pull away, bracing himself back up on one hand and putting the other one on Tommy’s lower back. “This might feel a little weird, okay,” he says as he slowly starts to pull out, and he’s right, it is a little weird, but what’s weirder is the way that none of Tommy’s limbs seem to be able to move even after Adam’s gotten off the bed to throw out the condom. It’s the little things no one ever fucking mentions about sex, seriously.

He watches the bed dip when Adam sits back down next to Tommy, rubbing his hand over Tommy’s back. “You okay?” he asks, leaning down to kiss him. Tommy nods his head against the sheets and then manages to get his body to roll over, his hard cock still flat against his stomach. Adam smirks down at him. “You certainly look okay,” he says, and before Tommy can formulate some sort of witty comeback Adam’s mouth is back on his cock, fingers pressing gently against his hole and slipping in easily.

Tommy groans and buries his hands in Adam’s hair, just letting Adam take him all the way down and do all the work, his body not coordinated enough to thrust up into Adam’s mouth at the moment. Luckily Adam’s enthusiasm for sucking cock more than makes up for that, his tongue swirling around the head of Tommy’s cock and then dragging up the vein on the underside, and then his fingers press up inside just right and Tommy is coming, his orgasm dragged out of him. He pants through it, twitching at the feel of Adam’s mouth swallowing around him, and finally Adam pulls off with a pop, wiping his mouth off with the side of his hand.

Tommy weakly bats at Adam’s arm, and Adam responds immediately, lying down next to Tommy and wrapping his arms around him, kissing him softly. Tommy’s brain debates how much he wants to resemble the just-deflowered virgin cliché for a bit before saying fuck it and going all in.

“I love you,” he mumbles against Adam’s lips, tempted to immediately hide his face in Adam’s shoulder but happy that he doesn’t when Adam’s face completely lights up, smile beaming back at Tommy.

“Really?” he asks, rolling his eyes a little when Tommy pokes him in the shoulder. “I mean, of course I love you too, but really?”

Tommy shoves his face into Adam’s neck. “Really,” he says, and he breathes him in, letting his whole body relax into Adam’s embrace.

  
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The fall formal is unlike any other high school dance Tommy has ever been to. For one thing, the entire school is still high off the big football victory, and for another thing he's never gotten to go to a dance with his boyfriend before.

It's not like they behave all that differently. Tommy still hangs out at their table with all of their friends, only going out onto the dance floor when Allison or Cam or Sophie insists, and Adam is still bouncing around the entire room, having what looks like seventeen different conversations at once and dancing all at the same time. But Tommy knows it's different, and Adam knows, and by the look of things so does everyone else in their group, almost certainly courtesy of first Isaac and then David, once he knew.

Tommy knows he's going to need to have a better conversation with a lot of his friends and actually tell them about what the fuck is going on, but for now he's content to just watch his _boyfriend_ buzz about the room while he shifts carefully in his chair and thinks about last night. They'll probably have to stick to blow jobs tonight.

Tommy's pretty okay with that.

* * *

A week or so after the game, Tommy stays late after school to finish up a physics lab that he totally spaced on during the Week of Pain and Suffering. When he comes through the band room after he's done to get his stuff and go home, it's completely empty, the air still and expectant. He pauses at his cubby, and then he heads over to the far wall where a couple of the school acoustic guitars are stored. He tries not to think too hard about what he's doing, just opens up a case and sits down on the riser with the guitar in his lap. He spends a little time tuning, and then he just lets himself go.

He tried to play when he was a pathetic little wreck of a person, tried to channel his emotions into art or whatever, but apparently misery isn't so inspiring to him, and so he hadn't picked up his guitar at all. But now it feels good again, even though it's not his baby, and he goes through a couple of the songs that he's taught himself before he starts noodling around on a melody he's been working on himself, picking it out carefully and humming a little, slightly off-key.

"That's sounding good," Mr. Pittman says, and Tommy startles, almost falling off the riser. "Hey, whoa, I didn't mean to scare you."

"No, I mean, I'm fine, just lost my balance a little," Tommy stammers out, heart pounding in his chest. He clutches the guitar to his chest with his right arm, his left hand still in position on the frets.

"You never told me you started playing the guitar," Mr. Pittman says mildly, and Tommy flushes and looks down at his boots.

"Yeah, I just didn't want you to know until I was good enough," he says, figuring the truth is probably less humiliating than any other option.

"Well, that was stupid," Mr. Pittman says, and Tommy snorts.

"That's what Adam said," he says, finally looking up.

"He's a smart guy," Mr. Pittman says, face warm and a little wry. “I can see why you like him so much.”

Tommy flushes at that, but Mr. Pittman just smirks a bit, watching him closely, and suddenly Tommy sits up taller and smiles back. He’s not going to pretend here, not about that. “It’s not just because he’s smart.”

Mr. Pittman nods, looking satisfied. "You should try playing with him sometime."

"Oh, he doesn't, like, play guitar though," Tommy starts, getting confused when Mr. Pittman rolls his eyes.

"I know, I meant that he should sing with you. You know. Like in a band?" Mr. Pittman says, confusing Tommy even further.

"But Adam's like a Broadway singer, Mr. P. I mean, I know he's great, don't get me wrong, but it's a whole different thing," Tommy says.

Mr. Pittman shakes his head. "I'm pretty sure there's not much you could throw at Adam that he wouldn't be able to do. Although it is a shame you don't know anyone who could be your drummer or play the keys," he says, shaking his head in mock sadness.

Tommy tries to tamp down the part of his brain that is already seeing the massive SOLD OUT signs over the name of their band on a marquee someplace. "You think Isaac and Cam would be up for it? Really?" he asks, smiling a little when Mr. Pittman makes a face at him.

"I think you could convince them, yes. I mean, if you tried really hard," Mr. Pittman says, and Tommy's not exactly sure why being mocked by Mr. P feels so awesome, but it totally does.

He frowns, thinking. "Wait a minute, we'd still need someone on bass, though," he says, and when Mr. Pittman smiles, Tommy knows what he's going to say a second before it leaves his mouth.

"If you want me to be in your band, Tommy, you just have to ask."

THE END


End file.
